Gravitatem
by kireitenshi00
Summary: Gravity-the fundamental force of attraction. And no matter how much time and distance separate the point man from the architect try, gravity will always draw them together.
1. Prologue

A/N: Hey Everyone! So after an extremely long hiatus from the world of fanfiction writing, I've decided to make a return. I had seen _Inception _before and even purchased it on Blu Ray, but it wasn't until recently that I got bit by the Arthur/Ariadne bug. For some reason, I've just been hit with inspiration for these two, and I've been writing on and off for days. I tried so hard to wait and post this story, but an old friend recently inspired me to try and get something out soon, and considering I at least know where I'm heading with this story (i.e. it's all outlined), I feel safe posting the first chapter now. Hopefully, I should have one chapter up a week, but we'll see how epic my muse really wants to make this...

Disclaimer: _Inception_ and all its incredible characters and ideas belong to Christopher Nolan. If I owned them... well, I wouldn't be sitting here writing fanfiction. The other crazy fools who will later join this story are mine.

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><p><em>Approximately two years after the events of <strong>Inception<strong>..._

Clear skies, zero humidity, and temperatures just warm enough to dress down without a jacket—in other words, a perfect day in Paris, the city of love. Beautiful stone buildings stretched toward the sky, lining worn cobblestoned streets. The sinister gargoyles lurking the city formed a stark contrast to the modern asphalt paved roads packed with cars and buses filled with tourists. A stunning city, Paris was a hub for both lovers and dreamers. Unfortunately, in a gleaming penthouse overlooking the lazily flowing Seine, the beautiful atmosphere seemed to have little effect.

Ariadne could never remember feeling this helpless. She had always prided herself on her ability to think and function under pressure. As an architect and a member of the world's most skilled dream extraction team, it was part of her job description. Even when she had found herself staring down Cobb's projection of Mal hidden deep within his subconscious, she had somehow found the words to express her feelings, but this… This was new.

She stared bewildered at the silver briefcase sitting innocently by the front door. Several filled suit bags lay draped over a black leather armchair. To her chagrin, the architect could feel herself wringing her hands, but despite her best attempts to stop the motion, she found her fingers entangling themselves in the delicate fringe of her blue silk scarf instead. She perched uneasily on the back of the black leather sofa that matched the armchair and glanced out the panoramic window displaying the Seine River and the Parisian architecture beyond. With the afternoon sunlight reflecting off the water and building windows, it was a picture of inspiration. On any other day, Ariadne might have found herself struck with inspiration, sketching new, incredible designs for the dream world until long after the sun had set, but of course that was any other day.

She slowly moved her eyes from the window across the immaculate apartment. A large living room painted a stark white dominated the room, a contemporary glass coffee table placed amid the furniture and several tasteful architectural pictures grace the walls. Off to the side, Ariadne could see a glimpse of black granite, indicating the presence of a spotless kitchen.

Footsteps emerging from the master bedroom down the hallway prompted Ariadne to look up. An impeccably dressed young man in a dark grey three-piece suit with dark hair slicked back by gel appeared from the hall, a mid-sized rolling suitcase in his left hand. "Don't worry about the rest of my things," the man began. "I'll have someone come and pack it up."

"Are you really going to do this?" Ariadne asked. The man didn't answer. He only set his suitcase by the door next to the silver case and moved toward the closet. "Why?" she asked again. When he didn't answer again, Ariadne shot off the couch. "Arthur!"

At her call, the tall point man stopped his search for his shoes and looked at her. "You know why I have to leave," he finally answered.

"No, I don't," she shot back.

"It's too dangerous if I stay."

"Is this about what happened in Hong Kong last week? So I got shot at-"

"This isn't just about Hong Kong," he interrupted, eyes dark. "I should have never gotten you involved in all this business."

"You never got me involved in anything! I _chose_ to be a part of this!" the architect exclaimed. To her horror, she felt the slow, burning sensation of tears forming behind her eyes. For a long moment, the architect and the point man stared at one another, a wordless conversation passing between them. Ariadne tightly shut her eyes, unable to maintain eye contact with the point man.

"I have to leave, Ari," he said softly. Ariadne felt one tear and then another slowly squeeze past her eyelids. "You'll be safer if I'm gone," he continued.

"You don't know that!" she insisted. "I could be killed next month or sent down to limbo next week. That's the way this life is!"

The point man crossed the room in a few long strides and tightly grasped her by the upper arms. "Ariadne," he ground out, "You need to promise me that you'll stop—stop designing for extraction."

"No, I can't promise that."

"Ariadne," he said again and shook her just slightly. She looked up at him, tears blurring her vision.

"No. You of all people know what it's like for me to design for reality."

"I know," he said quietly. "But you need to stop." He leaned forward to lean his forehead against hers. "Extraction is too dangerous."

"It's my job," she retorted. "My first job was a damn inception, Arthur!"

"I _know_ that!" he burst out uncharacteristically. "But you can still get out of this business, find a job as a legitimate architect somewhere."

She snorted. "I'd never last—too much practicality."

"I'd rather you'd be practical than dead," he answered.

"I didn't ask for you to protect me," she choked out.

"I'm sorry," he whispered and then pressed his lips to her forehead for a long moment before backing away. Ariadne wrenched her eyes open.

"Coward," she called, a welcome feeling of fury flowing through her veins. Anger, she could deal with. The point man had stopped once again in his trek toward the closet, but he remained still with this back toward her.

"You're running away again. You always run," she continued. Arthur moved forward toward the closet and withdrew out a pair of his usual leather shoes.

"We're partners," Ariadne said softly. "We don't leave each other behind." The point man remained silent as he pulled on his shoes and laced them.

"You're really going to throw all this away?" she demanded. "Throw us away?"

At that, he looked up at her. "It's for the best." He stood up straight. Normally he towered over the petite architect, a guardian in every sense of the word, but with the distance between the two of them, Ariadne's valiant protector seemed so much smaller. He nodded at her and moved to drape the suit carriers over one arm.

"I'll check up on you now and again to make sure everything's okay."

"Okay?" she echoed. "Nothing's okay!"

"Things will get better, Ari. You don't need me here."

"Liar."

He sighed and moved toward the door.

"Liar," she said again. "I need you, and you need me just as much."

He kept walking.

"Don't…" she pleaded. Ariadne realized with a sudden jolt that she was begging. It was an altogether unpleasant feeling. "If you have ever cared for me, if you have ever loved me, you'll stay."

Arthur paused for a moment but then answered, "I have to go, Ariadne. I have a flight to catch."

Ariadne felt that slow, burning fury suddenly erupt within her. This man knew her better than anyone, and he had to know how much it hurt her to beg him to stay. She had never debased herself for anyone or anything, but she was willing to do all that for him and more. Apparently though, he couldn't see that, or he just didn't care. Maybe he really was the perfect point man, complete with a heart made of stone.

"Arthur!" The point man stopped with his hand on the doorknob to turn and look at her. "If you leave… don't come back." His eyes widened slightly. "Don't come back here, don't call me, don't e-mail me, and don't you dare ask Eames or Cobb about me." She watched the point man's lips press together into a line. A long moment passed, his dark eyes boring into hers. And with a grim, slow nod to her, Arthur turned to the door and exited the apartment without another word.

The door shut softly behind the point man. Ariadne stood still for a few long moments, eyes tightly shut once more. She took a few, shuddering breaths before opening her eyes. Normally when she was upset, she would go and curl up in bed, but that wasn't an option. The architect couldn't bring herself to walk in there just yet. She had no doubt the sheets would still smell like his aftershave and expensive cologne, and she knew she couldn't seek comfort for heartbreak wrapped in the scent of the lover who had just walked out of her life and their home. Honestly, she didn't even know if she could sleep in the same bed anymore. Their large bed just held too many memories of long, passionate nights. Despite his departure, Arthur still permeated every corner of the apartment… except one.

Ariadne turned down the hallway and passed through a cracked door to enter chaos. Sketches of both real and impossible buildings covered the walls, a large pile of architecture texts teetered dangerously to the side. A drafting table in one corner was covered with more sketches and architecture pencils. Her studio—the one room in the apartment Arthur never entered. She had tried her best to keep the rest of the apartment neat, but more often than not, it was left up to Arthur to keep the flat immaculate. Ariadne had often teased the point man that he was obsessive compulsive, but they both knew that his attention to detail was what made him the best.

Ariadne walked into her studio, heedless of the sketches littering the floor. She walked over to the large window and drew the blinds, sending the room into darkness. She drew in another deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm herself.

Arthur was gone, and he wasn't coming back.

With a sudden, wrenching sob, Ariadne sank to the floor, burying her face in her arms. Tears slipped past her crossed arms to drip to the sketches on the floor, smearing ink and charcoal alike. Sobs wracked her small frame as she gave into sorrow. It had been years since she had last dreamt on her own. The last of her dreams, or nightmares rather, had disappeared in the embrace of the point man, the architect's unsworn protector in both dreams and reality. The maniacal face of Mal had long since evaporated from the architect's dreams, along with her taunts and easy threats.

"_Do you know how it feels to be half of a whole?"_

Oh yes, the architect knew what it was like to be half of a whole, and now she knew what it was like to lose the other half. With a shaking hand, Ariadne withdrew her bishop from her jeans pocket, placing it gently on the floor before tipping it to face reality. The totem landed lopsided on the floor with a soft "thunk." She stared at it almost in disbelief, as if she couldn't understand how this could be the real world.

The small architect had the sick feeling that despite her lack of dreams, her nightmares would return in the form of sleepless nights filled with a phantom lover's caress.

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><p>That's it for the prologue! Please click that little review button and tell me what you think!<p> 


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: Alright everyone, so far, so good with this whole chapter a week thing. I'm even updating this a day early, although that's mostly due to George R.R. Martin's _A Dance With Dragons_ being released tomorrow, and I know I'll just be swept up in that epic for the next couple of days… But I do have good news—the majority of the chapters are either partially or completely written, while the others, I already have a pretty good idea of how I'm going to lay them out. I think we're looking at around 11 chapters plus an epilogue, so by far, the longest story I've ever submitted. I've just always been really bad about finishing these things…

Anyway, special thanks to my lovely reviewers, who took the time to check out my opening chapter and gave me feedback. Now, allonsy! :)

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><p>"<em>Coward."<em>

She had called him.

"_You're running away again. You always run."_

She was right then, and here he was running away again. Although, when he escaped the walls of the Parisian apartment years ago, he wasn't dodging bullets… well literally anyway. "Keep going!" screamed a voice, shaking Arthur out of his reverie. Muttering a curse, Arthur pounded down the stone hallway, rapidly passing medieval suits of armor and turn of the century paintings, the subjects too much of a blur to make out.

Shots ricocheted around his body as he fled from his pursuers, the silver briefcase clutched in his right hand serving as an unwelcome beacon. His heart racing, Arthur's Cole Haans kept up a breakneck pace, up a flight of stairs and then a sharp right into a short hallway. Just ahead at the end of the corridor he spied an open door already occupied by the tall silhouettes of two of his team.

Eames—the forger. Already loading another magazine into his Glock, the Englishman wore a smirk of confidence as he smoothly took position on the right side of the doorjamb. "Alright there, darling?" he drawled. Arthur didn't dignify the man with an answer as he sprinted the last fifteen feet to the door.

Dom Cobb, former gifted architect and elite extractor, stood just to the left of Eames, his Sig Sauer Pro already pointed down the hallway. As Arthur reached door, Cobb slid swiftly aside, allowing the point man to enter the room and finally draw his own Sig Sauer. Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur saw the fourth member of their party cowering in the furthest corner from the door. Arthur shook his head in disgust. "At least he didn't completely lose it until the dogs were loosed," Eames quipped.

"He shouldn't be losing it at all," hissed Arthur, his eyes momentarily narrowing. "He's supposed to be a damned professional." If he died today because of this man's incompetence…

"Shut it, the both of you. There's a time and a place," interrupted Cobb. "Arthur, see if we can find a way out of this deathtrap. We'll cover you."

Despite not taking orders from Cobb for over a year, Arthur smoothly turned from the door and began to take stock of the room. It was a large bedroom, although judging by the amount of dust hanging on the drapes of the window across and room and the bedclothes of the large four-poster dominating the space, the room had not been occupied for some time.

Arthur quickly strode across the room to the large window and peered out the grimy glass. It wasn't a terribly far drop—maybe sixty feet or so, but it was far enough that simply jumping the distance would most likely result in a crippling injury.

At a sudden spray of gunfire, the frightened man in the corner started to shriek, which turned into frantic yelling as Cobb and Eames returned a quick volley of fire before slamming the door shut.

"Any ideas?" prompted Cobb, ignoring the cowering man.

"Not yet. Maybe you should ask our architect," retorted Arthur, rolling his eyes in the direction of their babbling teammate.

"Oi!" yelled Eames over the panicked cries of the fourth man. "Deacon! Get it together, man!" But any hope of calming the architect down seemed to vanish as a sudden pounding began on the door behind them. Yells of fury in Italian seem to grow louder and louder as the door shook.

"Shit," cursed Cobb, his eyes darting around the room for anything that could be of help. "Looks like we're going to need to find cover. Eames, Arthur, let's get this dresser knocked over."

The three men strode across the room to the heavy wooden dresser against one of the walls and shoved it over with a loud boom to rest on its side. As the forger and the point man took up kneeling positions behind the makeshift blind, Cobb grabbed the architect and dragged him behind the dresser.

With considerable effort, Arthur began to slow his breathing and heart rate to steady his right hand holding his gun across the top of the dresser. Anchoring his right hand with his left, the gun aimed dead on with the top of the door, a deadly shot to the head for the first man through that door. As Cobb, Eames, and Arthur prepared themselves for what seemed to be their last stand, the architect keeping up his incoherent mantra behind them, the sudden pounding on the door stopped. A sharp but muffled voice on the opposite side of the door rang out, which was followed by a short silence and then a polite knock.

The three men shared wary glances, but none of them removed their sights from the door. "Gentlemen!" addressed a man's voice from the corridor. "A moment of your time please? I would wave a white flag, but I feel as if you would shoot me before we had the chance to chat."

"Damn straight," muttered Eames.

There was a pause and then, "Wait." Two heads swung to the side to stare in disbelief at Cobb.

"Are you crazy?" demanded Arthur.

"We really don't have much of a choice here, Arthur. You know if there was any other way out of this, I would take it," retorted Cobb. Arthur shared a quick look with Eames, and they both slowly lowered their weapons but left them unholstered.

"Alright," called Cobb and moved slowly toward the door. "I'll unlock the door, but keep your men back!" There was an answer of assent as Cobb unlatched the heavy oaken door and then quickly moved back to stand with the rest of the team. The door swung slowly open and in stepped a man probably in his mid-thirties. Impeccably dressed in a tailored black suit, the man also wore a slight smug smirk across his face as he took in the situation of his opponents. The man's pale skin contrasting with the dark fabric made Arthur think of an undertaker, but the way the man carried himself screamed predator.

"Good evening, gentlemen," he greeted smoothly, with that same smug smirk. "I'm so glad I was able to run into you." His voice was a bland tenor, former accent long discarded to provide him anonymity.

"Somehow, I doubt that was a coincidence," replied Cobb, eyeing the man warily. "Now mind telling us who the hell you are and what you want with us?"

"Of course, how rude of me," the man answered. "My name is Williams."

"Just Williams?" inquired Cobb.

"For now, yes, just Williams will suffice. As for what I want with you, it's more what my employers want with you. I represent a powerful firm—Cobol Engineering. I believe you've heard of it?" At the name, all three coherent members of the team stiffened noticeably, leading to Williams' smirk growing into a toothy, yet maniacal grin. "Ah good, you remember the name, because they certainly remember you, Mr. Cobb." Cobb stood staring impassively at the man, but Arthur could feel the tension flowing off of him in waves.

"My employers have been thinking about you for a long time to be honest," continued Williams. "And in an act of generosity and forgiveness, they've decided to look past your last... contract with them and give you another opportunity to redeem yourselves."

"What kind of contract?" spoke Cobb with gritted teeth. Arthur could feel the muscles in his jaw tighten.

"The kind that's right up your alley, Mr. Cobb," Williams smoothly replied.

"Specificity would be nice," put in Eames. Arthur held back a groan.

"I think specifics would be best answered in a more… official setting, Mr. Eames."

"And if we refuse?" asked Cobb.

"You walk away," Williams answered. "Although, it would be such a shame as your children have traveled so far to surprise their dear father…" Arthur made a grab for Cobb's right arm, holding him back from tearing out the throat of the stranger in front of them, gun forgotten in a father's panic for his children. Eames managed to grab a hold of Cobb's left arm, but it was clear that both men restraining Cobb were struggling hard to control their own rage.

"I'm very sorry to put you in this position, Mr. Cobb, but I think you can see why it's so imperative that you listen to what my employers have to offer."

A yell from the hallway interrupted the tense scene, followed by a small silver canister rolling slowly through the still open doorway. The point man's eyes widened slightly. "DOWN!" yelled Arthur, and a huge bang and flash of light enveloped the room.

For several long moments, the world was turned upside down… and then it abruptly righted itself. Despite clapping his hands to his ears, Arthur's head rang. As he managed to stagger to his feet, trying to quickly shake his head clear of the cotton that filled it, a black clad hand firmly grabbed his arm and started pulling him toward the doorway. Arthur sharply looked up at the owner of the hand and nearly fell as the room started to spin again.

The owner of the hand was a tall figure clad entirely in black complete with a black helmet and blacked out visor. Although it may have been a woman, the fifty pounds of assault gear the figure was dressed in led Arthur to conclude it was a man. Arthur tried to pull back, twisting his head around to look for Cobb and Eames. Three other figures, also dressed head to toe entirely in black assault gear, had slipped into the room and were helping the others to their feet. The one who had grabbed Arthur yelled something incoherent to Arthur's ringing ears, but the message was clear as the stranger resumed pulling on Arthur's arm toward the exit. This time Arthur didn't resist, although he was sorely tempted to give the downed Williams a sharp kick to the ribs. He probably would have too if the world had decided to settle down.

Out in the corridor, half a dozen of the building's security lay in various states of shock. Most were merely stunned, although Arthur could see a few injuries that clearly were not results from a couple of concussion grenades. Beyond the incapacitated troupe of guards stood another tall figure dressed exactly like his (presumably) teammates. With a sharp gesture from him, the rest of the group hurried down the corridor, which Arthur noticed seemed to be much longer now than it did before. However, instead of taking the stairs, which the Arthur had frantically scaled such a short time ago, the group continued further down the corridor, stopping at a door much smaller than the last one.

With a sharp kick, the leader sent the small door flying, revealing a set of access stairs. By now, the effects of the flash grenades were slowly wearing off, and Arthur began to feel a sense of relief as his hearing and his balance slowly began to return. But the relief didn't last very long.

"I'm not leaving without my kids!" screamed Cobb, his voice penetrating the last bit of fog in Arthur's brain. Arthur and Eames both nodded in agreement and prepared to back Cobb up, but the leader of the group stepped forward and addressed them in a loud voice, "I wouldn't be asking you to unless we already had them!" At Cobb's shocked and evolving threatening look, the man hastily continued, "My associates retrieved them from Cobol's sad excuse for childcare this morning. They'll be waiting for us at my team's safehouse."

""How do we know can we trust you?" demanded Arthur.

"You don't! But we really don't have time to argue about this!" the man snapped. At that, the figure who was holding up the limp form of the architect addressed the leader, "I was advised, sir, that this might happen and to say" as he turned to Cobb "take a 'leap of faith'." Cobb looked startled for a moment but then nodded turning quickly to the stairs.

One of the other black-clad figures went over to the help his teammate carry the dead weight of Deacon down the stairs. The group descended quickly, reaching the door at the base of the stairs in no more than a few minutes. The leader of the assault team halted the group behind him with a raised fist before slowly proceeding to open the door and scan quickly for any signs of security. Satisfied the coast was clear, he waved everyone forward.

The group had emerged beneath an overhang in what would have once been a carriage house. Although instead of a carriage waiting, there was a large black Cadillac Escalade waiting, along with three black Ducati motorcycles. With a quick wave forward, the leader sent the two men supporting Deacon toward the Escalade. "You three with them!" he barked at Cobb, Eames, and Arthur. Deacon was fairly tossed into the large third row seat of the SUV before his saviors ran to the front to jump in the driver and passenger seats. Cobb, Eames, and Arthur scrambled in the back as well, Eames none too gently shoving the architect to one side of the seat before settling.

There was a roar of engines and the SUV peeled out, flanked by three vicious looking motorcycles. The vehicles raced out of the overhang and down a long gravel access road leading from the back of the building to the woods at the edge of the property. Despite the loose gravel, the driver of the Escalade handled the car like a professional, barely slowing as they flew into the tree line.

"What the hell is going on?" yelled Eames from the backseat. The driver remained silent although his partner turned to the men behind him and removed his helmet, revealing an older man, with black hair graying at the temples and a serious looking scar down the right side of his face. The grin the size of Texas kind of ruined the grim effect. "It's a rescue mission!" he declared and then held out his hand for Cobb to shake. "Saul McCallister," he introduced. Cobb returned the shake and quickly introduced the other members of his team.

"How's Sleeping Beauty back there?" McAllister asked nodding his head toward Deacon.

"Well she's not going to wake up with a kiss from _this _prince," answered Eames and prodded the unconscious architect in the stomach. McAllister chuckled and turned to Cobb again. "I have to say this is the closest we've cut it so far."

"What?"

"You're the fourth extraction team we've had to pull out from one of Cobol's little deathtraps in the past 2 weeks."

Arthur started. "The _fourth_?"

Saul nodded grimly. "Cobol is up to something and whatever it is requires a good extraction team, and I mean a good one. They've been creating fronts and employing extraction teams for jobs, only to ambush them once they try to take down the mark."

"That sounds familiar," replied Eames.

"We were hired by a guy named Luke Thompson," spoke up Arthur. "He was supposedly representing a pharmaceuticals company looking to extract some information on a rival company's upcoming drug patent. The mark flies out to Italy every month for some sort of luxury spa in one of the villas, and we were planning on catching her here."

"But you never even saw her," stated McAllister.

Arthur shook his head and answered, "We were targeted as soon as we entered the front gate." His jaw clenched. As the point man, his job was to make sure both the employer and the mark were vetted, so the team would always be prepared. Following the miscalculation on the Fischer job, it was no surprise that Arthur put more pressure on himself to ensure the safety of his team.

"Most of them are legit," McAllister said. "The employers I mean. It's just that Cobol has no problems finding some means of leverage against people they can use. Honestly, I'm surprised it took them—"

Whatever McAllister was about to say was interrupted by a spray of gunfire from the rear. In a smooth motion, McAllister withdrew a handgun from his side holster, rolled down the window, and began to return fire.

"Under the seat, Eames!" McAllister called. Eames reached under his seat to produce a long black polycarbonate box, and when he opened it, Arthur could see Eames' smile of approval as he removed a M27 IRA.

"Pardon me, darling!" Rifle in hand, Eames pushed up through the center aisle and shouldered past Arthur, hitting the window button. Taking a cue from Eames, Cobb also rolled down his window, readying his pistol. At the depression of Eames' trigger finger, all hell broke loose, and through the back windshield, Arthur saw a pursuing jeep roll once, then twice, and disappear in a whirlwind of dust. There was a screech of tires, and two more jeeps emerged from beyond the cloud. A volley of bullets sprayed past the group of pursued vehicles, several hitting the tailgate.

Two of the cyclists dropped back, handguns raised, and fired at the tires of the lead pursuing jeep. The front tires of the jeep blew out, sending the jeep out into an uncontrollable spin. As the third jeep swerved past its newly disabled companion, the two cyclists throttled forward, speeding past the Escalade.

"Time for something with a bit more kick," announced McAllister and reached to the floor in front of him, unlatching a second polycarbonate black box and withdrawing a compact missile launcher. Gripping the handle above the door with his right hand, McAllister pushed himself out the window, taking a seat on the door and bringing up the launcher with his left hand. "Might want to cover your ears for this, gents!"

In a scream, the missile took off in a direct shot toward the oncoming jeep. The two objects collided in an explosion, the force of the projectile putting a sudden halt to the motion of the jeep in a perfect example of Newtonian physics. "Jesus…" murmured Arthur, as McAllister pulled himself back into the SUV. The explosive happy soldier flashed them another grin as he took his seat, careful to not scald himself on the hot barrel of the compact launcher. Eames started laughing and moved back to his seat, clapping Arthur on the shoulder as he passed.

"You know, the next time you plan on bringing one of those things into my damn car, will you please at least have the courtesy to ask me?" came a testy voice from the driver. The driver held the vehicle steady with one hand and pulled the helmet off his head with the other hand, revealing a much younger man with blonde hair and a scowl on his face. "Aww, Tim, but then I would ruin the surprise!" joked McAllister. Tim snorted and tossed his helmet into the area in front of the passenger seat. "And if that guy decides to lose his lunch on my new upholstery, you're cleaning it up," Tim threatened, with a glance in the rearview mirror to the architect.

The caravan drove on through the countryside for several hours, fields of wheat and orchards laden with fruit flashed by as they sped down the narrow roads. Arthur leaned back his seat, watching the scenery blur together. Eames remained mercifully silent, although when the architect finally came around, a sharp command in a low British accent quieted all querulous inquiries. Cobb also remained quiet. 'No doubt he's thinking about the kids,' thought Arthur.

At one point along the journey, the motorcycles pulled up along side the SUV. One of the cyclists waved a quick gesture at the driver of the Escalade, who returned it, and the motorcycles raced ahead, taking left at an oncoming fork in the road. However, instead of following them, the SUV took the right fork, leading toward the towering hillside. Despite the dirt roads, trees, and perilous switchbacks leading up the hillside, the driver handled it like a professional. Just when Arthur though Cobb might explode in frustration, the vehicle slowed to a stop in front of a dense stand of trees. However, before any one could speak up, Tim depressed a button on the center console of the dashboard and the trees slowly slid back from the path.

Eames gave a low whistle, "Impressive."

McAllister shot the team in the back a grin as the SUV surged forward and the tree line slid slowly back into its original position behind them. They continued to follow the unpaved road through a thicket of trees, until suddenly they burst out into low sunlight. The group had entered a large valley, surrounded on all four sides by the large rolling hills of Tuscany. Located on the largest hillside was a massive Italian villa, its towers and ramparts standing sentry over the rest of the valley.

"You call this a safe_house_?" inquired Cobb incredulously.

McAllister chuckled. "It is a bit over the top, yes. But it belongs to a friend of mine—Enrico di Rossi."

"This is di Rossi's place?" asked Eames. "I had heard he wasn't in it for the money, but I guess he _really_ isn't in it for the money."

McAllister shook his head with another grin, and the SUV continued down into the valley toward the imposing structure. "Henry's always been sort of an adrenaline junkie," he elaborated.

"Henry?" asked Arthur.

McAllister laughed, "Yes, he always preferred the English variation to the 'European gigolo version'." Arthur heard Eames let out an amused snort from the back seat.

They passed yet another set of orchards and through a set of large black iron gates before finally pulling into the long drive leading up to the structure itself. Lined with cypress trees, the drive served as an elegant entrance to the villa. After a few more minutes of driving, the SUV finally slowed and pulled through a drawbridge into a spacious brick courtyard, dominated by a large fountain topped with a maiden pouring water in the center.

"The back gate should have notified them that we were coming," said McAllister, and the large SUV slowed to a stop. Both Cobb and Arthur opened their doors, allowing the nervous architect to scramble out of the car and Eames to follow at a more sedate pace. Arthur walked a few paces from the car and straightened his tie, trying to get his bearings.

Several arched passageways led from the courtyard into different parts of the villa, a large stone staircase on the east side of the courtyard allowed for access to the battlements draped with ivy creepers. Several other vehicles were parked in the courtyard in the shade along the western wall, including a vintage white Alfa Romeo, a pair of Ducatis (one in red, the other in blue), and a sinister looking Audi A8 in black. It was clear that despite the age of the building, it was kept in impeccable condition.

'Enrico di Rossi...' thought Arthur to himself. Di Rossi was known in the world of extractors as one of the few who truly was in the business for the thrill of it. Growing up the only son of a pair of Italian nobility, he inherited billions upon the death of his parents, including the Tuscan villa in which they now stood. Despite his cavalier attitude, di Rossi carried an impeccable reputation and was known in most circles as a top tier extractor. Arthur had never worked with him personally but knew enough about him to know that he was no novice.

Most of the time, di Rossi kept his jobs to a minimum, preferring to take assignments for the adrenaline rush or to fend off boredom. For a brief moment before this whole mess began, Arthur had contemplated offering the latest job to di Rossi, but in the end, Arthur decided he needed to work with an extractor he had worked with before and called Cobb in from Los Angeles. It took some persuasion, but eventually Cobb was convinced to take a brief hiatus from retirement to join the team in Italy. Although Cobb was largely a family man now, sometimes the call of the dream world was just too persuasive, especially if one couldn't dream on his own anymore.

"Daddy!" came a shout, and Cobb whirled around to see his son and daughter come careening down one of the passageways to tackle him on the flagstones. Arthur grinned. At eleven years old, Phillipa was already the spitting image of Mal, albeit having her father's light hair and eyes. The nine-year old James resembled more of his father than his sister did, but it was easy to see that the two were siblings. With a bit of scrambling, Cobb managed to get to his knees, hugging one child in each arm. The kids laughed in delight as their father embraced them and then gently pushed them away so he could see their faces.

"Are you two alright?" demanded Cobb.

Both heads nodded. "Of course, Daddy!" James answered, as if any other answer would have been completely out of the question. Cobb looked unconvinced, but Phillipa continued, "Really we're okay, Daddy. Aunt Ari took us away from the bad men and brought us to the castle!"

If time had paused in the battle earlier that day, it ground to a full and complete halt at that moment. Arthur felt his stomach drop and heard a peculiar pounding sound enter his ears—his heartbeat. Over the heads of his children, Cobb made eye contact with his point man, mouth slightly agape.

"Aunt Ari?" murmured Eames.

"It seemed much easier to say at the time rather than trying to teach a three year old how to say 'Ariadne'," interrupted a dry voice, and from the same passageway the children had appeared from approached a third figure, stepping into the rapidly dimming light of the courtyard.

"Evening, boys," greeted Ariadne. "Rough trip?"

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><p>AN: Please don't shoot me for the lack of Arthur/Ariadne in this chapter! I promise it's coming up soon! But in the meantime, please do me a favor and hit that little review button down there.


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: Okay! Chapter 2 is up! It probably doesn't have all the action people were hoping for in it, but I'm saving that for next week once I finally recover from _A Dance With Dragons_... Anyway, thanks to all those who reviewed the last chapter! I really do appreciate it :)

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><p>Three years. Three long years since Arthur had last seen the petite architect. Despite the passing of time, she looked exactly as she had then. Dressed in a pair of dark jeans, loose red t-shirt, and sneakers, she could have passed for the same architecture student Arthur had met in a Parisian warehouse over half a dozen years ago, and she was still the most beautiful woman the point man had ever seen.<p>

The only minor discrepancy was her scarf. There was a time when Arthur could name every one of her flimsy accessories, but this black scrap of silk with gold stars was completely new to him. He watched as she flashed a grin at Cobb and a wink at Eames before her smile dropped as she stood face to face with him.

"_Coward."_

Abruptly Arthur saw Ariadne's face flash before him, although this time it was covered in tears, the slow moving, gut-wrenching tears that signified total hear break. He had watched her beg him to stay, something he had never expected from the strong and independent Ariadne. For a split second, he was tempted to drop everything and stay. Her pleading had been both completely unexpected and stomach turning. She should never have to beg; she was too proud and too determined to ever lower herself to that. It was one of the many reasons why he loved her so much.

But he had still walked out. 'I really am a bastard,' thought the point man. Arthur was sure that if he had still been able to dream, the architect's tears would only appear in his nightmares.

There was a whoop of joy before a streak of color, also known as Eames, broke past Arthur and swung the small girl up his arms laughing. Although she tried to put another smile on her face, a hiss of pain escaped her lips, prompting Eames to immediately place her gently back on her feet. "Alright there?" questioned Eames.

Ariadne gave him a half smile. "Yes, I just took a tumble down a flight of stairs is all. My ribs seem to still be a bit sensitive."

"And did someone _help_ you down this flight of stairs," inquired McAllister with an eyebrow raised. Instead of replying, Ariadne raised one of her own eyebrows and met his stare levelly. A short nonverbal conversation occurred between the two before McAllister rolled his eyes, turned to the shaken Deacon, and began to prod him toward the nearest archway.

"Come on in," invited Ariadne as she moved past the group and followed McAllister. "You guys look like hell."

As the group began to migrate toward the archway, Cobb made a move toward Arthur, but Arthur shook his head before following the rest of the group. He needed some time to think. The unexpected meeting and proximity to his former lover was both heartening and disconcerting. Arthur was sure his poker face had held up upon her appearance, but her lack of emotion at seeing him was completely out of character. Apparently the architect had changed from the one he had left in Paris.

They wandered through the archway and down a short passageway tastefully lit by two series of wall sconces to a set of oaken double doors. With a gentle push from Ariadne, the doors swung open to reveal a large room dominated by a staircase leading up to a second floor, a massive landing branching out in two directions. A large chandelier lit the room in addition to sets of floor lamps laid out strategically along the walls. A few uncomfortable looking sofas could be seen in the depths of the cavernous room.

As the group approached the stairs, Phillipa and James chattering quietly to their father, Tim moved off toward a small door set to the left of the staircase.

"Is there still dinner around here somewhere?" asked McAllister.

"Most of it should still be laid out on the sideboard. I think the twins were still in there last I checked, but I'm sure you can find something else in the icebox," answered Ariadne. McAllister nodded and moved off in the same direction as Tim.

"This way," called Ariadne and headed up the stairs, taking a right at the landing and moving down the long carpeted hallway toward a series of rooms. Arthur saw a barely noticeable wince of pain cross her face, and he itched to take a look at her injuries. Old habits died hard.

She walked down a few doors, passing a few Impressionist paintings to halt beside an unmarked door. "Eames, this would be you," she said and opened the door, revealing a large bedroom decorated in creams, reds and golds. Directly across from the entrance was a set of crimson drapes that framed a set of glass double doors leading to a small balcony, which Arthur was sure had a fantastic view of the valley.

A four-poster bed, reminiscent of the one in the room they had escaped from earlier that day, sat back on the far left wall. On the right was a large writing desk, a flatscreen TV suspended above it. Two other doors on the left flanking the bed presumably led to a bathroom and closet.

"Por moi?" asked Eames in an atrocious French accent as he strolled in. Ariadne grimaced briefly before laughing quietly.

"Yes. Henry's been kind enough to provide housing for everyone. We're still waiting on one more team to show up, but I wouldn't be surprised to see them in the next day or so," she answered. "In the meantime, please feel free to make yourselves at home. The grounds are gorgeous, but knowing you Eames, I feel as if you'll be more interested in the pool or the home theater. I'm sure James here will be more than happy to give you a full tour of the place. After a few days here, I think he knows it better than I do," she laughed with a smile at James.

"You saw Tim and Saul head into the kitchens downstairs, so help yourselves—"

"Good lord, Ariadne! You really expect me to wear this?" called Eames. He had wandered into the closet during Ariadne's speech and came back out into the room carrying a pink silk paisley shirt on a hanger.

Ariadne grinned, "Well considering your absolutely impeccable taste, I figured it would be a welcome addition" and pointedly eyed the rather garish mustard colored silk shirt Eames was currently wearing. At that, Arthur had to hold back a small grin. He had claimed burning eyes at seeing the shirt this morning before the team had left for the spa.

Eames snorted and then turned back to the closet, "All this for me?"

"Yeah well, Nikki does go a bit overboard..."

"Nikki?" spoke up Arthur. Ariadne glanced quickly over at him, but before she could say anything, a tall olive-skinned woman with black hair pushed past the group into the room. Clad in sensible black trousers and a light green button up blouse, her ensemble paired with gold rings, bracelets, and earrings screamed money.

"Ariadne, you should have waited for me," she chided gently. Ariadne shrugged and allowed the woman to continue. "My name is Nicole di Rossi, but please call me Nikki." Her Bostonian accent played a stark contrast to her Mediterranean complexion.

"You're Henry's wife?" asked Cobb.

"Yes," she said turning to him with a smile. "Which also makes me the housekeeper and hostess until my husband decides to reappear." She turned to give a querying look to Ariadne, who shook her head. Nikki sighed, "Well in any case, Ariadne was perfectly accurate. Please make yourselves at home. Ariadne was kind enough to help me stock your rooms with anything you might need, but if you find yourself requiring anything, please do not hesitate to ask. Mr. Eames, I think we should leave you to it." With a nod of thanks from Eames, the two women stepped out of the room and back out to the hallway to join the others.

"I'm not sure I understand what's going on," started Cobb. "I mean, I'm grateful more than you could ever know, Ariadne, for returning my kids to me, but why are we staying here?"

"I think that's a question best left for Henry considering we're even in the dark," said Ariadne. "But I can tell you that what we're about to do here may just be the craziest job in the history of shared dreaming, and in order to pull this off, we're going to need the best."

"I got out of the business years ago, Ariadne. You know that," replied Cobb.

"Yes, I do. But I also know you still take the occasional job."

"Which didn't go so well this morning."

"So you won't even listen to the pitch?"

Cobb paused for a split second, pursing his lips together, clearly in disapproval. "Not really looking forward to another job that may put my kids in danger."

"Not even if it gets Cobol off our backs? Permanently?" At that Cobb paused once more, this time looking down at his kids and then at Arthur. Arthur nodded.

"Okay. We'll hear di Rossi out," Cobb answered slowly. The shorter architect favored him with a small smile, one that didn't make it to Arthur. He felt his jaw clench just slightly. She had told him to leave and to never come back, but the emotionless expression she favored him with hurt more than any of her anger ever could.

"Excellent!" interrupted Nikki. "Now, shall we continue?"

Deacon had just been placed in his room adjacent to Eames' room, when a male voice called "Ari!" from the opposite end of the hallway. A handsome, brown-haired man dressed in a grey suit and white button down shirt was struggling with an undone straight tie. "Can you give me a hand here please?" Ariadne clucked her tongue in disapproval and walked toward him.

"You would think it would be engrained in all men to know how to do this…" she started.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," the man muttered and pulled his chin up to allow Ariadne access to his neck. She straightened the ends of the tie a bit before starting the opening creases of a full Windsor knot. As she did so, the man noticed the group in the hallway and nodded before turning his attention back to Ariadne. "Are you ever going to tell me where you learned to do this?" he asked her.

"Nope," answered Ariadne.

Arthur watched the exchange with interest, although he tried to not let it show on his face. The architect and nameless man were standing too close together for the point man's comfort.

The scenery around him warped.

_Twisted sheets and clothes lay strewn about the once immaculate hotel room._

_The slowly rising sun began to send fingerlings of delicate sunlight across the floor, illuminating a tousle-headed brunette exiting the bathroom in a long sleeved men's Oxford shirt, the hem of which barely reached the tops of her thighs._

"_I think I might like you wearing my shirt better than anything else you have," came a quiet voice from the bed. The brunette kneeled on the side of the bed and smiled impishly. "Well, I could always switch to men's button downs… I'm sure Eames would appreciate it." Her bedmate growled and in a quick motion had grabbed the brunette and swiftly pinned her to the mattress._

"_Arthur!" she shrieked but quieted as he captured her lips in a searing kiss, running a hand up one smooth leg and up the shirt. Her moan of approval was all he needed to move his lips from her mouth to her chin and then slowly down the side of her neck, stopping only to taste that sensitive spot below her ear that made her shiver._

"_Eames," Arthur said as he continued his way down her neck, "may appreciate this, but I'll be damned if he ever gets the chance." She laughed quietly. Arthur's fingers began to undo the buttons at the top of her shirt, laying kisses on the newly revealed skin._

_A sudden buzzing interrupted the lovers, followed by a long groan from the woman. "Don't answer it," she ordered._

"_Could be your Englishman," Arthur said with a smirk and planted a quick kiss on her lips before rolling off the bed to retrieve his phone from the nightstand. A short conversation later, he turned to the bed, only to find that she had moved to a wall mirror, this time with his tie looped around her delicate neck. He watched for several long moments as she attempted to properly tie the thing. Arthur could feel a smile spread slowly across his face and let a small chuckle pass his lips before approaching her._

"_How the hell do you do this?" she asked curiously while tugging on the piece of silk._

"_Here, let me," Arthur offered. He stood behind her, his arms draped easily over her petite shoulders, and took hold of the fabric in her hands. She stared into the mirror with interest, watching his elegant fingers effortlessly begin to form a precise full Windsor knot. She hummed in approval. "Do all men know how to do this? I mean, is it just something you instinctively know how to do?"_

"_Only the real men," he answered and she laughed. A beat of silence passed._

"_What did Eames want?" she inquired quietly._

"_How do you know it was Eames?" Arthur answered, putting the finishing touches on the knot._

"_The only time you ever have that tone is when Eames is involved," she grinned and modeled the wrinkled shirt with perfect tie in the mirror. "How do I look?"_

"_Stunning," he answered, kissing the side of her neck. "His flight landed an hour early. We're meeting him at nine."_

_The woman sighed and said, "I guess we had better start getting ready." She moved out of the circle of his arms and started sashaying toward the bathroom again._

"_Ariadne."_

_The brunette turned back to look at Arthur. "Hm?"_

"… _We can be a little late." _

_Feminine shrieks of laughter mixed with a man's low masculine chuckle permeated through the room._

"... And this would be your room Mr. Cobb," intruded a voice into Arthur's memory. He shook his head and realized that the group had moved further down the hallway. The suited man from before was no longer in the hallway, but Ariadne still stood behind with Arthur, giving him a strange look before continuing on down the hallway after the group.

Arthur shook his head once more to try and clear the sudden jolt into nostalgia and then followed Ariadne. She had caught up to Cobb and was saying something about the kids. "… my old studio—just up the tower stairs on the end."

"It's so cool, Daddy!" exclaimed Phillipa. "It's like being a real princess!" Cobb chuckled and assured her that he would see it later.

"Why don't you two keep your father company and then give him a tour before bed?" suggested Nikki. The children readily agreed, and each grabbing one of Cobb's hands, fairly dragged him into his room. Cobb had time to shoot one more quick look at the point man before he disappeared into his room.

"And last but not least!" announced Nikki, moving on to the next room. Arthur followed along behind her, and an uncomfortable silence began to grow over the trio.

"Umm… I'm just going to see if Henry is back. I needed to ask him something about about… logistics," came Ariadne's voice from behind Nikki and Arthur.

"Ariadne—" started Nikki.

"I'll catch up with you later," the architect answered and fairly bolted from the hallway.

Nikki laughed quietly, "She always was a terrible liar." Arthur had to smirk at that. Ariadne's poker face may have received a passing grade, but lying was still apparently her greatest deficiency. He could always tell when she was lying, but the smirk dropped quickly once he realized that she most probably left to avoid any period alone with him.

"Here we are," said Nikki, gesturing at the last door. Upon opening it, Arthur could see that it was designed much like Eames' room, although the drapes and bedcovers were all a dark blue, almost black, instead of crimson. The point man took a few steps into the room and opened the balcony door to let in the cool Tuscan breeze. Below the balcony, he could see a large swimming pool set into a paved patio and beyond that lay the Italian valley, rustic yet wild. Turning away from the balcony, he moved on to the closet, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Rows of three-piece suits and coordinating shirts greeted him, along with a small rack containing an assortment of ties in various colors. Below the rack of suits, Arthur could see several pairs of leather shoes, and he was nearly certain that in the small wooden chest located on a top shelf, he would find a few sets of cufflinks. If Arthur hadn't known any better, he would have thought that he had walked into his own closet.

"Arthur, if anything at all is to come out of the next few days, perhaps you can teach my husband how to dress properly," sighed Nikki. "Your taste is impeccable." Arthur nodded in acknowledgement as he drew one of the suits off the rack. At the label 'Tom Ford,' Arthur raised an eyebrow, throwing a quick glance at Nikki. She smiled and shrugged, "This is all Ariadne's work, so you'll have to thank her. She mentioned you were very particular."

At Arthur's silence, Nikki continued quietly, "I'll leave you to it" and retreated from the room. Arthur spent a long moment staring at the suit in his hands. It was impeccably cut, and he was sure it was tailored to fit him exactly. Ariadne knew him too well. Selecting a matching shirt and tie, Arthur left the closet, laying the items neatly out on the bed. With one long last stare at the handpicked outfit, Arthur turned to the bathroom. Maybe a long shower and a fresh change of clothes would help him bring things into focus, but just in case, he removed his totem from his dusty pants and rolled the red die across the desk.

Six white dots glared back in response.

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><p>AN: That's it for this week! Please read and review!


	4. Chapter 3

A/N: Alright! We're on a roll, despite spending my days packing up my life into boxes. But this is the chapter you've all been waiting for :) Special shout out to reviewer and author madcowre, who's _Blush_ is one of my favorite A/A fanfics out there, and I am incredibly flattered to get the attention and favoritism.

Disclaimer: I do not own _Inception_ (unfortunately). All the characters belong to the mad genius that is Christopher Nolan. However, all the new character are mine mine MINE!

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><p><em>Ariadne had been back in Paris a little over five months before Arthur turned up on her doorstep. Despite her change of address to a slightly larger apartment in a more reputable area of the city thanks to her take from the Fischer job, Arthur seemed to have no problem tracking her down. 'But that's what I supposed makes him the point man,' Ariadne had thought at the time. Following a just slightly too long moment of staring at one another, she invited him in for a cup of tea, wincing as she took in the state of her apartment.<em>

_Shoes were spread all over the front mat in various states of disarray, while her living room was a jungle of half completed and completed models of buildings and paradices. A small-scale model of the Penrose stairs she and Arthur had walked not so long (yet so long ago) lay suspended from the ceiling above the coffee table. Several sweaters and a blanket were thrown haphazardly over the back of the couch, and her cluttered bookshelf was overflowing with filled sketchbooks, books on architecture, and various popular novels._

_As Ariadne walked further into the apartment, she glanced back at her silent companion. He was just slipping off his shoes and placing them neatly side-by-side near the door, but at her gaze, he looked up at her and gave her a small smirk. Ariadne felt herself flush before walking quickly into her kitchen. "Christ…" she murmured, "it's been five months, girl. Get over it." Unfortunately though, it would seem that Fischer wasn't the only victim of inception. One quick kiss from a man she barely knew in a dream nonetheless, and Ariadne's mind could not stop thinking of the possibilities, of where else it might lead, but as soon as they returned to reality, they were strangers._

_Even after they left the plane and baggage claim at LAX, none of them acknowleged one another. Ariadne knew that it was the plan, but it still hurt to see Cobb race off without another word, Yusef push his laden baggage cart out the exit without even one of his small gentle smiles, Eames wander out in search of a taxi without a signature wink in her direction, and Arthur… well it just hurt to see him leave at all. _

_Ariadne didn't know how long she stood there, watching the doors the point man left through, but she knew it was too long once she noticed the looks other arriving passengers sent her way. With one last glance at the exit, Ariadne turned on her heel, heading to departures and Paris, but the entire flight back, her restless dreams were of a terse point man in three-piece suits and slicked back hair. _

"_I'm glad to see you put your money from the Fischer job to good use," Arthur said, making Ariadne jump. She turned to find him leaning on the doorjamb of the kitchen, watching as she sent him a glare, filled the teakettle, and placed it on the stove._

"_Yeah well, I had a lot left over after I paid off the rest of my tuition, so it seemed like a good idea," Ariadne replied. Arthur nodded before moving out of the kitchen to peruse her living room. Ariadne felt herself blush again. Somehow, seeing Arthur in his expensive suit standing amid piles of drawings, models, and charcoal made her feel incredibly self-conscious. She felt his eyes move over the endless dreamscapes and structures, pausing briefly to take in the suspended paradoxical stairs._

"_How have you been sleeping?" he abruptly asked._

_Ariadne started, "Huh?"_

"_Sleeping. Have you been sleeping at all?" _

_Ariadne hesitated, "Yes." Arthur turned to face her, taking in her face. She hesitated again. She wasn't clueless—she knew about the ever-present circles slowly growing beneath her eyes that she carefully tried to conceal each day before heading to class. But she knew that with his keen eyes, even he could see the fatigue in her face._

"_Let me rephrase that," he said. "Have you been sleeping well?" Ariadne gave him a rueful smile in return._

"_Still dreaming?" he asked._

"_Yes…"_

"_Nightmares?"_

"_Some," she answered. Although, Ariadne had put a bullet in the woman in limbo, Mal Cobb still had the tendency to show up in the architect's dreams, a large silver knife gleaming in one clenched fist. Ariadne didn't bother elaborating that the only dreams she had not considered nightmares were plagued by another threat—the projection of the man currently standing in her apartment. Granted most of those dreams ended with her waking up need of a cold shower…_

"_It happens," Arthur went on. "But they go away in time just like every other dream."_

_Ariadne waited a beat, "Did you have nightmares?" Arthur's jaw clenched just slightly before he met her gaze. Just as Ariadne was about to press further, the shrill whistle of the tea kettle broke the silence, and she hurried into the kitchen to turn off the burner. Grabbing a couple of mugs, she placed a tea bag of Darjeeling Limited in each cup and then filled each with boiling water. She picked up both mugs and returned back to the living room, handing Arthur one of them. He thanked her politely, and she sat down on the sofa, placing her mug on the table to allow the tea to steep. There was another short silence, and she blurted, "What are you doing here anyway?"_

"_I had some business to take care of in the city," he answered, moving to look out one of the windows._

"_Ah I see," she murmured. Ariadne didn't know why, but she suddenly felt an enormous sense of fatigue. It enveloped her completely, and she felt her stomach twist into an uncomfortable knot. "So this isn't a social call," she muttered._

"_What?"_

"_Nothing. I take it you have a job for me then?" she inquired. Something in her tone must have startled him, as he turned from the window to look at her._

"_Yes, something has come up." The knot in Ariadne's stomach doubled over on itself and sank like a stone. "You're not obligated to say yes," he continued._

_Ariadne was quiet for a moment before answering, "Could I think about it?" _

_Arthur nodded, "Of course, but I'd like an answer soon. If I have to find another architect, I'll need to start looking."_

"_I understand," Ariadne tried desperately to keep her voice from shaking. What had she been thinking? They weren't friends! Hell, they were barely acquaintances! She was the architect, nothing more and nothing less. She stretched out a fairly steady hand to reach for her mug but was startled when a hand grasped her wrist, interrupting its path. Ariadne looked up to see Arthur set his mug down on the table and take a seat next to her on the sofa, his left leg barely brushing her right._

_Gently pulling her right wrist toward him, he focused his gaze on her hand and started to lightly trace it with the fingers of his free hand. His cool touch made her shiver slightly, and she stared almost in disbelief at the top of his head, the gel in his hair just slightly reflecting the afternoon Parisian sunlight. Arthur slowly halted his imaginary doodling on her palm and said quietly, "I didn't come here to demand you take another job with me… but I'd like you to," and he raised his gaze to meet hers. _

_Ariadne felt the knot in her stomach loosen abruptly, and still keeping his eyes locked to hers, Arthur gently leaned down and pressed his lips to her open palm. As suddenly as the oppressive feeling came, the weight lifted off Ariadne's shoulders and the knot in her stomach dissolved into a frenzy of nervous activity. He stared at her, waiting for her reply, and for the first time in her life, Ariadne found herself at a loss for words. The quick and brilliant architect just gaped at the point man. Several long moments passed and Ariadne felt his grip on her wrist loosen slightly, and to her distress, she saw his jaw clench ever so slightly as he started to withdraw._

"_Wait!" she managed to stammer and snagged his hand that had just released his wrist. "Quick, give me a kiss." Arthur smirked and leaned forward, capturing her lips with his own. She felt his tongue lightly trace her lips, before permitting him entrance and allowing him to languidly explore her mouth. Ariadne felt him lift his free hand to encircle the back of her neck, and fire raced up her spine unlike anything she had ever felt before. At the next sweep of his tongue, she found herself responding in kind, and then two tongues were battling for dominance. _

_How long the kiss went on for, Ariadne couldn't say, but when they finally parted, she found herself gasping for breath, and she was amused to see that for once, the point man seemed slightly off kilter. At some point that she couldn't remember, she must have grabbed his jacket, because she found herself slowly unwrapping her fingers from his lapels, leaving small creases in the once pristine fabric. _

"_You still haven't answered my question," Arthur murmured, his lips just barely brushing hers._

"_Well, it was worth a shot," she replied with an impish smile and leaned forward to press her lips to his once more, regrettably but necessarily cutting off his laugh._

_The tea lay forgotten on the table._

Over half a decade later, in a country hundreds of miles away, in a house that was no longer hers, Ariadne lay wide awake in her massive bed in the east wing of Villa di Rossi. She hadn't dreamt in years, but memories like that one kept sleep at bay, denying the slim possibility of dreaming anyway. Ariadne kicked off the covers and rolled over restlessly to look at the clock: 1:30AM. 'Fantastic,' she thought. Despite being a fairly cool Tuscan night, Ariadne had thrown both sets of double doors to her balcony wide open, allowing a breeze to sweep through the gauzy curtains and gently disturb the myriad of sketches laid out over the walls, floor, and desk.

Ariadne sighed in frustration. She used to be able to crawl into bed and fall asleep right away, but it would seem that Arthur's reappearance had once again thrown her world off kilter. He looked the same—maybe a bit more tired (possibly due to the harrowing escape from earlier)—but he looked like the man she once called her lover. Still dressed in designer three-piece suits and hand made leather shoes with gelled-back hair, he still was the sexiest man she had ever seen. The loathing for him she had carefully cultivated since their parting had burned away as soon as she laid eyes on him, and for that, she hated herself a bit.

When she first saw him in the courtyard earlier that day, she felt her heart pause ever so slightly. She didn't know what would happen, but her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, and any greeting she might have had for him never appeared. Of course, in his usual impeccable fashion, his facial expression never changed at all, something that brought old, dormant anger boiling forth from deep within the architect.

'Over two years sharing a bed with him…' fumed Ariadne, 'you would think he would at least have shown some sort of emotion!' Sure, there was a moment in the hallway earlier when she caught him staring at her with an unreadable look on his face, but she brushed it off as a surprise finally catching up with him. Considering they had neither seen nor talked with one another in years, it was a sort of jarring way to meet again. 'But, I suppose I at least knew he was coming,' mused Ariadne. Although to be honest, she had nearly passed out when Henry let her know of his intention to invite her old teammates, including her ex, here to the villa.

"Some preparation…" muttered Ariadne and rolled out of bed. Hopefully the rest of the place was asleep and she could sneak down to the kitchens for some hot chocolate, anything to help her get to sleep. Slipping on a robe and placing her overturned totem in her pocket, she crept quietly out of her room and down the set of stairs she had led the troupe of tired extraction experts earlier that evening. The chandelier had been turned off, but several of the floor lamps were still on, allowing for some illumination. The architect made a sharp turn upon reaching the bottom of the stairs and made for the door to the kitchens. Mercifully, all was quiet.

For the past week and a half, the villa had been bustling with activity. When it became clear that Cobol was trying to collect extraction teams at all costs, Henry had put out the alert. When the engineering firm tried to collect Henry's wife… Henry took it personally. What started as a series of independent battles was now about to turn into an all-out war, and Ariadne suddenly found herself on the front line. But even Ariadne knew it would take a collaborative effort of multiple extraction teams to bring down Cobol Engineering. So Henry had been opening his house as a safe haven for all those pursued and willing to try for the "not impossibly, but highly improbable" as he put it.

The first group to arrive actually took up residence a little over two weeks ago. Konstantine and Demetri, twin Greek brothers, were infamous for their forging abilities. As close friends of Nikki, they were a few of the first to be offered sanctuary, but in typical Greek fashion, they turned the villa upside down within minutes with their crazy antics and bizarre drinking games guaranteed to bring on massive hangovers. Charming as the two were, Ariadne could only put up with so much.

Following the Greeks was a motley assortment of four men: Graham (the lead extractor and larger than life Texan), Harvey (the "point man" but Ariadne could tell he couldn't hold a candle to Arthur), Lee (the mechanic, responsible for designing vehicles to be used in the dream world), and Kai (the architect, with more than a passing passion for art deco). Like Cobb's team, Graham's team found itself hired for a fictional purpose and narrowly escaped with their lives. It was by sheer chance that Saul was in the same building and managed to set off enough of a distraction to get them out. It wasn't until Graham's team showed up that Henry became resolved to help out his fellow extractors.

Despite ephemeral partnerships within the world of extraction, it really was a cutthroat business. Since the Fischer job, Ariadne had served as the architect for numerous extraction teams before taking up a more permanent position with Henry's team, and along the way, she had seen ugly rivalries between extraction teams spring up in competition to get the best contracts. With extraction considered illegal in so many countries, finding well-paying work relied both on your reputation and your ability to protect yourself from sabotage. Needless to say, Ariadne thought working together would bring her more piece of mind when she went to work…

The next group to appear at the villa mercifully gave a break to the amount of testosterone rapidly accumulating within the castle walls. Ariadne had nearly burst out laughing when she met Katya, the tall, buxom leader of the team. If Ariadne hadn't flipped her totem over several times just to be sure, she could have sworn that it was Eames' forgery of the blonde woman in Fischer's imaginary hotel. But of course, Katya was real, and she, Nikki, and Ariadne soon found themselves banning together in a show of feminine solidarity. At one point, Katya even apologized (laughingly so) by making the problem worse and bringing two men of her own, Mick (a decent forger), and Titus (another architect).

With the villa rapidly filling and most accustomed to little sleep, it was not at all shocking to find someone blasting Billy Idol in the large parlor at four in the morning or, in Graham's case, looking for a shovel at 2AM to dig a pit for a pig roast. At the latter, Ariadne really had burst out laughing and it took a significant amount of time and effort to pull herself together.

Snickering quietly to herself at the memory of Graham trying to explain the merits of burying a pig in the yard while dressed only in jeans, snakeskin boots, and a Stetson, Ariadne gently pushed the kitchen door open and walked into the dark room. She groped along the wall until she found the light switches and proceeded to throw them, illuminating the granite counter tops and wooden cabinets with a warm light. She hummed quietly to herself as she grabbed milk from the large refrigerator and pulled a pot down from the suspended rack. "Can't sleep either?" cut in a voice.

Ariadne gasped and nearly dropped the pot before turning around with a scowl, "Don't _do_ that!"

Arthur held up both hands in mute apology as he strolled into the kitchen. 'Figures,' she thought. 'I manage to avoid him all evening, and as soon as I'm alone, here he is.' Wearing a white t-shirt and dark grey flannel pants, he was as dressed down as Ariadne had ever seen him. "Hello, Ari," he greeted quietly. His eyes were dark and unflinching. God, she hated him when he looked like that. In the past, it had always made her feel weak in the knees, and tonight it was no different.

To steady herself, Ariadne focused on pouring milk into the pot and turning on the burner, although she noticed with a small frown, she had unconsciously poured enough for two people rather than just herself. "Ari," Arthur called again quietly.

"Don't call me that," Ariadne hissed at him. "You lost all right to call me that." She stalked past him to the refrigerator and replaced the milk before continuing on to the walk in pantry in search of hot chocolate mix. Most nights, Ariadne would enjoy the long drawn out process of melting in shaved chocolate, butter, and vanilla, but tonight, she found her peace interrupted, and she decided to take the hasty route to an escape. However, after several long minutes of digging around in the pantry to find the packets of Swiss Miss, she exited to find Arthur standing at the stove, calmly stirring the milk with a spoon in his right hand, a tiny bottle of vanilla in his left. "Three drops, right?" he asked in that same infuriatingly calm voice of his.

"Yeah," Ariadne answered before tossing the powdered packets on to the nearest countertop and throwing herself in the nearest chair next to the kitchen island. To her extreme annoyance, Ariadne found that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't take her eyes off Arthur's back. His broad muscular shoulders may have been hidden beneath his shirt, but his strong, tanned arms and hands were in perfect view. She had always loved his hands.

"Mugs?" he asked.

"On your right, second cabinet." Arthur padded over quietly and removed two mugs, filling both with some of the steaming refreshment before placing one in front of her and sitting down in his own seat directly across the counter.

A tense silence filled the room.

Ariadne tried to distract herself by watching the rich layers of chocolate eddy as she slowly swirled her mug, but she could feel his gaze fixed on the top of her bowed head. Desperate for anything to break the oppressive atmosphere, she blurted, "So you're working with Cobb again."

At her quick upward glance, she watched him raise an eyebrow as if to prompt "Small talk? Really?" But instead of letting the conversation fall back into silence, he answered, "Yes. We needed an extractor with experience…. Or at least that was what I was led to believe."

She nodded, "And the architect?"

Arthur snorted in derision, "Absolutely useless." Ariadne had to let out a small laugh at that. Arthur's professionalism and experience were always something she could count on during jobs, but sometimes he just demanded too much of others. Ariadne remembered one afternoon when she had followed a furious Arthur out of their safe house following a massive argument between him and a new forger brought on to complete the job in Eames' absence.

She had tried to defuse the situation, but Arthur was adamant they stick to his plan. The mark's subconscious was militarized and any mistakes on the part of the forger could lead to the downfall of the team. Ariadne knew that Arthur was just doing his job, but she did gently point out that the forger was unfamiliar with people trained against extraction.

"_We need another forger," Arthur had demanded. "T.K. is way out his depth."_

_Ariadne sighed, "Just cut the guy some slack. I'm sure, given time, he can pull it off."_

"_We don't have time for this."_

"… _Is there anyone you didn't immediately criticize right away, besides yourself Mr. Perfect?"_

_Arthur's smirk at her drained her of all indignation. He nodded once, took her hand, and together they headed back to the warehouse. Ariadne was kind enough to not sing "I told you so" when they completed the job a week later._

Flashing back to the present, Ariadne said, "I'm sure he's not that bad."

"His construction is decent enough, but it lacks depth and detail. During prep, Cobb said he actually walked through a men's room door to find himself in an amusement park."

Ariadne winced, "Okay, maybe he is that bad."

Arthur smirked and nodded in agreement then took a sip of his hot chocolate. Silence returned to the kitchen once more.

"… how have you been?" started Arthur.

Ariadne flicked her eyes over to him to find him staring at her intently. She shivered slightly, almost imperceptibly, but she knew that he had seen.

"I've been good," she replied lamely. "And yourself?"

"Also well," he said. She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. Leave it to him to give the world's shortest grammar lesson in one of the most awkward conversations ever. "I see you still have a fetish for scarves," he continued.

"I see you still have a fetish for noir," she shot back.

"Funny, you never seemed to have a problem with them before."

"You never irritated me as much before," she countered and left her stool to place her now empty mug in the sink. When she turned back from the sink, she let out a small shriek to find Arthur standing inches behind her.

"Move," she ordered in irritation. She needed to get out of here. The air was too thick. Ariadne could feel her blood pulse in her ears. No matter what, she couldn't let Arthur see how his proximity affected her.

But instead of moving away, Arthur moved even closer, placing his hands on either side of her on the counter, effectively trapping her. "We need to talk," he said.

"We said all that we needed to say to each other three years ago, Arthur," she gritted. It wasn't hard to feign frustration. This was just too much. She felt herself tensing as his breath swept over her face.

"Maybe so," he murmured, "but if we're supposed to be working together, we need to figure out a way to make this partnership work."

"Partnership?" she sputtered. "I'm sorry, did I miss something? Perhaps the part where we're working together?"

He leaned further forward, his nose gently brushing hers, "It's a collaborative effort, remember? A point man should always know what's going on, especially with the architect."

Ariadne felt fury fill her veins and brought up her hands to lay flat on his chest and shove him away. "Don't," she breathed. "Don't even."

"Don't even what?"

She narrowed her eyes. "We're not partners, Arthur. I work for Henry."

"So you do what he tells you then?"

She hesitated.

"I don't remember you being so meek, Ari."

"Fuck off."

"Tetchy are we?"

She growled. "I don't have to stand here and listen to this. I'm going back to bed." But before she could even take a step, Arthur had swiftly moved forward and pinned her again against the counter. He leaned in even closer, and this time she knew he could feel her shiver. Ariadne froze as he leaned his head toward hers, but instead of moving nose to nose with her as he was before, he moved his head to the side of hers to whisper in her ear, "I missed you."

Ariadne felt the breath leave her lungs. With more strength than she ever knew she had, she forced her muscles to move and wrenched away from Arthur, putting him between her and the counter. But when she turned to address him, she was horrified to feel tears welling up in her eyes and starting to spill down her cheeks. Arthur stood there and watched her, his face smooth of any expression.

"You can't say that," she said.

"Why not?" he inquired. "It's the truth."

"Because you can't possibly mean that!" she burst out. "Don't forget that _you_ were the one who left_. You broke_ _us_!"

"Don't you think I know that?" he erupted. Ariadne shied away from him. His eyes were burning, boring holes into her own. He took a step toward her, but at her flinch, he stopped. She could see the muscles in his jaw clench ever so slightly.

"Don't you think I know that?" he repeated, softer this time. "I left because I thought that it was best."

"Best for you or best for me?" she questioned testily. This was an old argument opening old wounds. Three years may have passed, but she realized uneasily that this conversation was still too early to have.

"I wanted to keep you safe," he answered.

Ariadne heard a bitter laugh and was startled to realize it was her own voice, "Safe? I'm sorry, but have you seen where we are now? What's even going on?"

"I know that," he replied irritated. "But I just wanted you to know that I did. Miss you that is."

Ariadne sighed. It was just like the point man to do this to her. No one else could make her blow hot one second and cold the next, but before she could even say anything, she heard a low whisper, "And I'm sorry for ever leaving."

She felt her stomach drop to the floor, and the gradually fading tears renewed their descent in earnest as she flung her gaze at him. He stood there, fists and jaw clenched, staring at some point on the floor. In just his t-shirt and flannel pants, Arthur no longer looked like the impeccable point man but more like a guilty child, seeking approval from a beloved parent. Ariadne had to suppress the sudden urge to giggle hysterically. Although a part of her was still completely furious at him for being an overprotective idiot, she had forgiven him long ago. Arthur loved her, and she knew that just as she knew she loved the point man.

"Seven months," she said quietly.

"What?"

"Seven months," she said again. "That's how long I waited for you."

"I—" he began, but she held up a hand for silence.

"Seven _months_ I didn't leave that apartment, hoping and praying that you would walk back in that door."

"You told me never to come back," said Arthur, his eyes still focused on some far point on the floor.

"Idiot. Don't you know anything about women?" she chided. "We never mean things like that. I was angry, yes, but I never wanted you to leave, leave."

Arthur's shoulders slumped as he let loose a humorless chuckle. "You would have thought that after living and working with you for so long, I would have caught on."

Ariadne sighed. "And you've gotten no better with age, Arthur. Although, I supposed I haven't learned much either… I waited seven months in Paris for you, but now I find myself three years later in Italy… still waiting." She saw his head snap up to stare at her, his jaw slackening in disbelief. She let a soft smile grow across her lips, tears still streaming down her face.

"Idiot," she said again. His eyes darkened, and in two long strides, his lips came crashing down onto hers. Lips and tongue and teeth met in a frenzy. Ariadne had nearly forgotten how kissing Arthur felt—she could have sworn she could feel the earth spinning beneath her feet. The scent of his aftershave and the lingering taste of chocolate in his mouth was nearly too much. If Ariadne had a free hand (one was currently at the back of his neck, the other was gliding up under his shirt over his firm chest), she would have reached for her totem.

She felt his hands gliding through her hair, one hand staying to gently grip it and the other moving to untie the knot of her robe with its clever fingers. Knot undone and robe agape to reveal her pink camisole and black shorts, the now free hand slowly made its way up the side of her body, brushing her hip, ribs, and breasts. The architect arched into the point man with a moan. She both loved him and hated him for the control he seemed to have over her.

One hand still entangled in her hair, Arthur focused the attentions of his freehand on finding the hem of her shirt and inching its way up back toward her breasts. Ariadne could feel molten fire traveling in its wake, and when his hand finally reached her right breast to roll his thumb over her nipple, the architect saw stars.

Abruptly, she felt her back hit the wall. Somehow, the point man had guided them the few feet from the center of the kitchen to the side and had pressed her up against the wall. "Hold on," Arthur ordered and freed both hands from her body, prompting her to whimper slightly at the lack of contact. But he quickly rectified it by reaching down to grab her under the knees and brought them up on either side of his waist. Ariadne instinctively locked her legs around him, as he leaned forward again to pin her against the wall, lips seeking hers. Her bruised ribs protested slightly at the abuse, but passion overruled pain. In this close proximity, she could feel his growing erection through his pants, and she shivered.

She ran her fingers through his hair to mess up the perfectly gelled style that always accompanied him. Arthur growled a bit into her mouth and nipped her bottom lip slightly before moving on to lay kisses down her chin and neck. When he found that sensitive spot just below her left ear, Ariadne had to wrap her arms around him to keep herself from losing her grip, but she knew he would never let her fall. As his mouth slowly traveled down her neck to reach her left collarbone, Ariadne found her voice. "Wait!" she gasped. He ignored her in favor of re-mapping out her bone structure with his tongue.

"Stop!" she squeaked out again and managed to free a hand to push his head away. He looked down into her eyes, his pupils wide with a need and an emotion that Ariadne knew belonged to her alone. "Upstairs," she said. Swiftly, he set her down, barely allowing her to get her legs underneath her, when he grasped her hand and started to pull her from the kitchen. When they made it to the top of the stairs, he turned right toward his room, but she stopped him and pulled him in the opposite direction instead.

"My room," she ordered. At his slightly puzzled expression, she added, "Much less likely Eames will come busting in." Arthur grinned at her. It was one of those rare, genuine smiles that Ariadne had always treasured. When he smiled like that, she knew that Arthur the point man had temporarily retreated. She returned the smile and led him on down the hallway to her room.

She had just closed the door behind them, when she felt herself gently picked up and deposited on the bed. She sputtered a bit in indignation but was cut off when Arthur appeared above her face, straddling her hips and leaning forward to pin her arms gently above her head to the mattress.

"Control freak," she called him, but the accusation was without any heat.

"But you love it," he murmured, and as his lips came down to meet hers, Ariadne was for the first time in years, completely at peace.

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><p>AN: Well?


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N: Ahh! I'm so sorry that this is late! Life has apparently decided to catch up with me in the form of moving and Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child's new Pendergast book... To be honest, I had this chapter done for awhile, but I needed to take a short break in order to add some necessary tweaks. Chapter 5 is shaping up, and I think it'll be up next week. Thanks to all those who reviewed my last chapter! I really appreciate it.**

**Disclaimer: Unfortunately I do not own the genius that is Inception. It and all its characters belong to Christopher Nolan, but the rest of these dreamers are mine :)**

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><p>Arthur woke up with a strange sense of wrongness, but at the same time everything felt perfectly right. A feeling of serenity settled over him like a blanket, reassuring and vaguely familiar.<p>

The first thing he noticed was that he was not in his bed. The pastel colored bed linens and pink camisole dangling from the headboard indicated that he wasn't even in his own room. This was confirmed when he glanced over to see two pairs of glass doors opened on one of the walls, admitting a gentle breeze and the first hint of sunlight into the room.

The second thing he noticed was that his pillow, which he had wrapped an arm around, was breathing, slowly and evenly. Its gentle warmth was pressed tightly against his chest.

And the third thing he noticed was the faint smell of vanilla and lavender tickling his nose. It was a scent that his brain had gotten used to long ago, but the lack of exposure until recently threw his head into a spin.

Arthur blinked a few moments to allow his brain to catch up and slowly looked to the "pillow" his arms had pulled back to his chest. A petite figure with tousled curly brown hair slept peacefully next to him, back pressed flush against his chest. The pale yellow sheets that adorned the bed had slipped down to reveal the purple and yellowing bruises scattered across Ariadne's ribs. Arthur's eyes narrowed at the sight.

He had remembered seeing them last night, paying close attention to them and being sure to treat the architect with extra care. But now, in the gentle light of the morning, they stood out in sharp relief, and he couldn't help running a gentle thumb over one particularly nasty contusion. Ariadne shivered and he halted his caress then smirked ever so slightly before leaning forward to plant a gentle kiss on the bruise.

"Mmm that tickles," mumbled Ariadne, her eyes still closed.

Arthur chuckled softly, "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"Uh huh I'm sure," she replied opening her eyes and rolling onto her back to look at him. "Morning."

"Good morning," Arthur returned and kissed her lips gently. God she was beautiful. Her mussed hair spread into a delicate halo across the pillow to frame a slightly flushed face and rich, brown eyes shining with contentment and something else that Arthur thought he might never see again.

She scrunched up her nose at him, "What?"

"Nothing," he said.

She knew him too well, "Liar." Arthur's smirk grew into a full grin as he once again brought his lips to hers, this time deepening the kiss far past the point of being chaste. He could feel her smile into his mouth as she brought her arms up around his neck to pull him closer. He was just running a hand up the inside of one of her thighs when a buzzing sound abruptly broke into the heady atmosphere.

Ariadne broke away with an apology and a smile and then let out a groan of annoyance as she rolled away from Arthur to pick up the still Blackberry on the bedside table. Arthur noticed with some amusement that next to the phone was an overturned bronze bishop. He contented himself by propping his body up with an elbow and watching the curve of the architect's spine disappear into a gentle curve into the sheets. Despite living in Italy under nearly constant sunlight, her skin was still as pale as ever.

"Shit," he heard her mutter. Immediately he was on the alert.

"What?" he asked, his professionalism coming out already.

"It's nothing," she said and sent a quick text before rolling back over to face him again. "Just… when we go downstairs this morning, you have to promise me not to flip out."

He raised an eyebrow at her, "Why…"

"Just trust me, Arthur."

"Always." Her eyes softened and she reached up to kiss him. "We should probably get up."

Arthur nodded. With the last extraction team supposedly arriving today, the real work would begin, but that didn't stop him from placing a series of kisses along the column of her neck first. He left her sighing on the bed and began to hunt for the pajamas he was wearing last night. He really needed to get back before Cobb, or God forbid, Eames woke up to find him in such a disheveled state and out of his room. Arthur located his boxer briefs and pants soon enough, but the t-shirt eluded him. He was just about to cross over to the corner of the room piled high with sketches, when a small whistle beckoned.

Arthur turned and found himself smirking at Ariadne, who was currently drowning in his t-shirt. "Looking for something?" she grinned impishly. In a quick motion, he leaped onto the bed, automatically locating that sensitive spot just beneath her ear, and running his hands up the shirt to remove it. He allowed them to just barely graze her breasts as she arched into him and he removed the t-shirt from her with a flourish. Another buzzing sound interrupted the two lovers, and this time both groaned at the sound.

"Careful," Ariadne admonished. "The point man is starting to slack off."

He didn't answer but nipped her bottom lip in response before moving off to pull on the shirt. As she checked her phone, Arthur reached into one of his pockets to remove his totem and rolled it across the matching bedside table. The loaded die verified his query of reality with its six stark white dots.

"You're just now checking?" the architect inquired.

"You already did?"

She grinned sheepishly, "I may have tipped it a couple of times after the shower earlier." Arthur smirked and leaned forward to give her a chaste kiss on the lips.

"I'll see you later," he said and she nodded as he headed toward the door, trying to avoid the mess of papers on the floor that they had knocked around and stepped on in their earlier enthusiasm. Arthur looked back once more to see Ariadne already out of bed and wrapped in a sheet, and at that moment, he could almost see the Greek mistress of the labyrinth of legend standing there and heading toward the bathroom. He shook his head once and then turned to open the door and hurry toward his own room, muttering a prayer under his breath that his team would still be asleep.

As luck would have it, Arthur's team was still sound asleep that morning when he crept past their rooms to enter his own. He was able to shower (the shower with Ariadne a few hours ago really didn't count considering there wasn't much bathing involved), shave, and dress in another one of the tailored suit and shirt sets. Just like the suit from yesterday, the three-piece Armani fit perfectly. Ariadne really did know him too well, although she really was the only one who knew the man behind the point man. Even Cobb had never reached the same level of confidante as his successor. Arthur stopped quickly to thread in a set of cuff links and check his carefully gelled hair in the bathroom mirror before heading down to the kitchen in search of coffee.

Arthur entered the kitchen to find two of his teammates, Cobb and Eames, in conversation with a few members from another team at a small table set off from the rest of the kitchen. The point man remembered them from last night's rapid introductions as Graham and Lee. Another pair of men, Demetri and Kai, were just passing through the kitchen doors to the outdoor terrace, plates laden with food. After a quick scan, he found the woman he was looking for.

Ariadne stood with a cup of coffee next to the kitchen island, which was covered in various breakfast items. She wore similar clothes to those he had seen her in yesterday, but she had swapped out the sneakers for low heeled calf-high boots and the black scarf for a white scarf to contrast her royal purple t-shirt. Her still-wet hair was pulled up in a bun at the back of her head, a few tendrils escaping to tickle the back of her neck.

At the moment, the architect was attempting to have a quiet conversation with Nikki, but an unfamiliar man kept cutting in. The irritation was clear on the faces of both women, but the egotistical smirk on the man's face indicated that he was either completely ignorant of the situation or just didn't care. Arthur was guessing the latter.

"Aw now, sweetheart," the man addressed Ariadne. "You can't keep denying your feelings for me. It's unhealthy."

Ariadne snorted and Nikki rolled her eyes. "Nikki, have you heard from Jael? I heard she was in New Zealand somewhere, but I haven't heard from her lately," said Ariadne.

"She sent an e-mail my way about a week ago but—"

Nikki was cut off by the goon to the side. "I'm not accustomed to being ignored here," he growled.

"Sam, don't you have some place better to be? I don't know, like taking a long walk off a short pier?" suggested the petite architect coolly.

The man's eyes darkened and leaned in to leer at her. "Why don't we take this conversation somewhere more private, baby," countered Sam.

"Go fuck yourself," she returned loudly. Conversation in the kitchen ceased immediately, and Arthur could feel more than see the eyes of Cobb and Eames turn to focus in hostility on the brash man. The point man was too focused on the creep across from him, who was reaching out a hand to take hold of one of Ariadne's wrists.

Arthur didn't even feel his feet moving, but before Sam could get a hold of Ariadne, Arthur found himself between the two and giving her a quick peck on the lips. A strangled sound from past her head somewhere gave good indication that Eames had choked on his coffee. Arthur smirked at Ariadne's somewhat stunned expression before snatching her coffee out of her hand to take a sip.

"Hey," she protested with a small laugh.

Arthur made a face, "I'm sorry, I was looking for a cup of coffee, not a cup of milk with a dash of coffee." Ariadne stuck her tongue out at him and then moved to the coffee pot to pour him a cup; her grateful glance was not lost on him. Arthur heard a sputtering sound and turned to look at Sam. The man probably would have been considered handsome if his face wasn't twisted in fury.

"Who the hell are you?" Sam spat.

"Her boyfriend," Arthur returned.

"Ariadne doesn't have a boyfriend."

"Sam's right. I don't have a boyfriend," interjected Ariadne. Arthur turned to look at her, and she grabbed his tie to pull him down and give him a full kiss on the lips. "You're certainly not a 'boy,' and you're definitely more than a friend."

Arthur resisted the urge to chuckle and accepted his cup of coffee with a nod of thanks. A choked sound of anger prompted them both to look at the rejected suitor. He sputtered indignantly before abruptly turning on his heel and striding out of the kitchen. There was a beat of silence before a peal of laughter from Nikki broke it. Ariadne grinned at Arthur and re-straightened his tie.

"Excuse me, but can someone please tell me what the hell just happened," demanded Eames. Arthur turned to the table to see Eames with a stunned expression on his face. Arthur had to hold back a snicker. Eames probably couldn't have looked more stunned if a stampede of elephants ran through the room. Cobb, on the other hand, just had a bemused expression on his face and shook his head slowly.

"Problem, Eames?" Arthur asked with a small smirk.

"Yeah actually. I'd like to know why exactly you two are snogging."

"That's what people who are seeing each other do, Eames," said Ariadne slowly, as if she were speaking to a small child. Eames gaped at them.

"Well it's about time," muttered Cobb. The architect and the point man both turned to stare at him. "Oh come on!" he said. "You two were so miserable without each other, it was agonizing to be around. It was only a matter of time before you got back together. Although, Arthur, your timing sucks."

Arthur opened his mouth to protest but stopped when he felt Ariadne start to shake in silent laughter.

"He's right you know," piped in Nikki. "Ariadne, you could be an absolute nightmare sometimes—moping around and listening to that awful jazz music for hours." This time when Ariadne started to respond, Arthur started to quietly laugh, and she sent him a glare.

"Pay up, Eames," Cobb said, holding out a hand.

"Bloody hell…" complained Eames, pulling out his wallet. "Really, Ariadne, you couldn't hold out for one more night?"

"You two were betting on us?" exclaimed Ariadne.

"The bet started the day after you two called it off," the forger replied and placed more than a couple of twenties in Cobb's hand. Arthur scowled at them both, but after a moment, Ariadne shrugged and reached to grab a bagel off one of the platters. "Glad to see everyone was _so_ concerned," she sniped.

"Ariadne, don't be like that," started Nikki. "I mean at least they didn't lock you two in a closet like Henry was planning on doing." Ariadne spun around to stare wide-eyed at the woman.

"What?"

Tiny strains of music suddenly broke through whatever tirade Ariadne was about to unleash. As Nikki pulled her phone from her pocket, the music resolved into Juvenile's "Back That Ass Up."

"Speak of the devil," said Nikki and answered the phone. "Hi, baby. Mind telling me where the hell you are?" Her slightly too sweet voice promised a sound rebuking later.

"Henry," called Ariadne loudly. "I'm going to _kill _you."

Nikki laughed, "Did you hear that?" There was some silence as he replied. Nikki turned to Ariadne. "He says what else is new."

Ariadne rolled her eyes and began to slather cream cheese on her bagel. Nikki continued the conversation while Arthur quietly bickered with Eames about being appropriately professional, and Cobb and Ariadne struck up another conversation with Graham and Lee. A few minutes later, Nikki ended her conversation and walked over to the group. "Henry said to go ahead and call Maurice to send on the others from the Campania house," she said to Ariadne, who nodded in response.

"He also said, and I quote 'Bruised ribs my ass. Get your shoes on and be ready to go in ten, you complete and total pussy'."

Ariadne's eyes narrowed in anger. "Oh is that what he said," she spat through gritted teeth. Nikki nodded. "Nik, your husband is an asshole."

"Oh, I'm well aware."

With a huff, Ariadne marched to the sink to deposit her mug and then stalked to the door, disappearing without another word. The men watched her leave and turned to Nikki in curiosity. The Boston native laughed and said, "Oh ignore that. She and Henry have always been like this. He used to always say the most horrible things to her to get her to go running with him, but then again, she's also the only person who can keep up with him most of the time."

"Running?" asked Arthur.

"Yeah. It's actually how I met them," she replied. "Ariadne and Henry were both in Philadelphia doing research for a job I guess, but I was walking home and Henry literally ran into me—spilled my groceries everywhere. He blames Ariadne for distracting him, but she takes credit for introducing us since she picked the route."

"I never pictured Ariadne for the running type," Eames said, looking pointedly at Arthur.

"I think it helps calm her nerves or something," said Nikki. "The only times she's gone out without Henry are when she's stressed out about something."

"Or spent an entire night consuming about a million calories worth of tequila," Ariadne drily interrupted. The architect had changed into a loose t-shirt, running shoes, and a very short pair of shorts. She pointedly ignored the point man's gaze running slowly up her bare legs

"That was totally not my fault," claimed Nikki.

"It was totally your fault," Ariadne shot back. "It was _your_ bachlorette party!"

"Oh whatever," Nikki waved her off. "Go burn off some energy… that is if you have any left after last night," and the woman smiled wickedly at Ariadne. To her credit, Ariadne kept her blush to a slight flushing of her cheeks, but that didn't stop Eames from roaring with laughter and Cobb soon joining in. Arthur sent a death glare toward his two teammates, which unfortunately just made it worse. With her chin held high, Ariadne shot the taller woman a one-finger salute and turned on her heel for the door.

"Gentlemen, I guess I better round up the rest of the troops," said Nikki, and she also turned for the door. "The other teams should be here by early evening, so I'm guessing Henry will wait until then to call a meeting." The five men nodded and watched their hostess leave, dialing as she went.

"Any idea what di Rossi has in mind?" asked Eames.

"Absolutely no idea," said Graham. "We've been here a week already, and Henry's barely dropped any clues as to what he's got up his sleeve. Not even Nikki knows what's going on."

Eames let out a huge breath, "Well then, I guess we wait."

* * *

><p>For the rest of the morning and afternoon, Arthur wandered around the villa. Although he had taken a quick walk around last night, it was mostly to see if he could catch a glimpse of Ariadne, and he hadn't really taken anything in. So in typical lovable "Uncle Arthur" fashion, he had submitted to Phillipa's and James' whirlwind tour of the castle with patience. He made sure to appropriately nod in approval at the swimming pool and exclaim in subdued delight at the children's tower bedroom. He did shoot a genuine smile at Ariadne though as he spied her breathing heavily on the back veranda, face flushed in exertion, and crowing loudly over her victory beating Henry back to the villa. The man Arthur assumed was their host lay sprawled out on the steps of the large porch. The grin she sent him in return nearly took his breath away.<p>

A short while later, Arthur found himself in the large salon of the northern side of the villa. He walked in to find about a dozen people, most of which he had met the night before, including two others he had worked with on previous jobs—Yahn (a mechanic) and Petra (an extractor). He gave slight head nods to both in a polite greeting before heading over to an unoccupied couch on the far side of the room. Conversation in the room was light, mostly concerning the tricks of their respective trades or possible ideas they thought di Rossi might have for dissuading Cobol.

Shortly after Arthur walked in, Eames, Cobb, and the Greek twins entered the salon. Upon seeing Petra, the twins let out a huge shout and promptly swept her off the couch into enthusiastic arms. Eames and Cobb continued into the room to take seats on the couch next to Arthur amidst yells of delight in rapid Greek. "Hello darling," greeted Eames. "Enjoy your tour?" Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Kids?" asked Cobb.

"Wanted to go to the pool, but convinced them to wait until after the meeting was over," replied Arthur.

"I swear, I'll never hear the end of it about that pool," muttered Cobb. "What the hell did you convince them to do instead?"

"They're building a fort in the parlor. I promised them Mr. Eames would be the first to try it out." Eames' smile disappeared pretty quickly.

A few minutes later, Deacon, seemingly recovered from his terrifying ordeal the day before, walked in and began walking toward his extraction team. But upon seeing their matching scowls and icy stares, he abruptly did a ninety-degree turn and settled uneasily in an empty armchair.

Space was rapidly filling up in the room as more people flooded in and took seats, but there was still no sign of any of Henry's team, including Ariadne. At one point, Arthur noticed Sam skulk into the room, taking a seat as far as possible from the suited point man. The volume of conversation began to increase until it suddenly came to a halt as a tall man in his early thirties appeared in the doorway.

His old-fashioned, regal bearing clearly indicated his entitled upbringing even if no one was able to tell from his thick black hair, olive complexion, and small, black goatee, neatly trimmed. Arthur had to hold back a grin. The Italian nobleman was dressed in jeans and a striped button down, long-sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His skinny tie bespoke of a casual hand toward formality. He looked considerably better than the nearly unconscious figure Arthur had seen earlier that afternoon.

Following Henry came Nikki, Ariadne, McAllister, Tim, and the man Arthur had seen Ariadne in the hall with last evening. The six of them brought the final number in the room to twenty-two, probably the most extractionists in one place ever. Di Rossi gave a small jerk of his head, and with the exception of Nikki, his teammates fanned out to take seats throughout the room. Ariadne smoothly crossed the Persian rug of the parlor and squeezed onto the couch between Arthur and Eames. Arthur edged slightly to the side to make room for the architect, and he was amused to see her try her best not to sit on the edge of his suit jacket. In a smooth motion, he casually placed an arm along the back of the sofa, allowing his fingers to gently play with the curls at the nape of her neck. The scowl Sam sent Arthur's way was not lost on him nor was the way Ariadne just slightly leaned into him.

"Evening," Henry greeted. Despite his heritage, the Italian had only the slightest hint of an accent in his smooth English. "Everyone comfortable? Good. Hopefully, you've all become somewhat acquainted with each other. If not, well I suggest you do so before the night is over. That is, if you're interested in staying on."

"I'm sorry, but what exactly would we be staying on for?" interrupted a portly Russian. He had introduced himself as Mikhail to Cobb before the meeting and was considered to be an architect with some considerable reknown. Arthur had never worked with the man before, but that was of no surprise considering the point man's selectivity of associates.

Henry nodded at the Russian. "I'm sure you've all been curious as to why I've asked you here. As many of you know, Cobol Engineering has been looking to procure an extractionist team." There were murmurs of assent throughout the room.

"Most of you," di Rossi continued, "also have become acquainted with this man." The speaker picked up a small remote off a nearby table and depressed a button to reveal a large plasma screen TV, hidden by wooden paneling. A picture had popped up on the screen of a familiar face: Williams. Next to him, Arthur could feel Ariadne stiffen, and he glanced over to see her lips thin into a single line.

"In every case, this man has appeared to show no scruples in getting what he wants, using threats, hired guns, kids… Essentially, Cobol is desperate—desperate for a team willing to do something completely insane."

He clicked another button on the remote to bring up another picture on the TV. It was of an older man, rail thin, with silvered hair and a hooked nose. "Meet Dr. Micah Levinson, the world's foremost expert on shared dreaming. He's also currently in the employ of Cobol Engineering." That provoked a bout of whispering.

Di Rossi waited for the low conversation to die before continuing, "Cobol has tasked Dr. Levinson with the job of creating a new device, one that would retire PASIVs."

"I'm sorry, what?" interrupted Lee, his brows furrowed.

"Wireless PASIVs," continued Henry. "And by wireless, I mean completely so. No cords, no wires, and _no_ sedatives."

"Oh shit…" Arthur heard Ariadne murmur.

"I don't think I need to tell you how disastrous such a device would be." There were more than a few nods.

"Pardon, but did I miss something? How could it be that bad?" spoke up Deacon.

"Bloody hell, that man is an idiot," muttered Eames under his breath.

"Imagine for a moment the implications of a wireless device," answered the unnamed man from di Rossi's team. "Uncontrollable access to any dream anywhere. A remote device but with the full capabilities of a PASIV device, including extraction. In the hands of a regular extraction team, it probably wouldn't be so much of an issue, but in the hands of a massive corporation like Cobol…"

"Complete and unrestricted access to any mind. Cobol would make a monopoly of not only just energy and resources but also people," finished McAllister.

"That's absolutely insane," erupted Graham. The Texan's face was flushed with fury.

"Exactly," responded di Rossi. "And they're looking for a team to perfect it."

"You mean they're looking for a team of guinea pigs," interrupted Ariadne angrily.

Henry nodded. "There's no way they think they can pull this off without sending more than a few of us to limbo, and I guarantee, Cobol doesn't give a damn what happens to any of us, including whether or not we make it back. They don't seem to be huge fans of extraction teams…" Henry shot a quick look at Cobb and Arthur.

"So what do we do? I mean we can't just walk in there and extract the idea," put in Konstantine.

"Inception," answered di Rossi. There was a moment of silence before a flurry of sound erupted, most consisting of words like "insanity" and "not possible." Cobb's team, including Ariadne, stayed quiet.

Henry held up a hand for silence and waited for the dull roar to die down. "Well you're all right about one thing—it is completely insane. But I assure you, it is possible." This time, the look he sent to Cobb remained steady until it caught the attention of everyone in the room. Cobb met di Rossi's stare, and after a long moment, he nodded once.

"I had heard the rumors…" murmured Kai off to the side.

"Hold up a second, Henry," Ariadne interjected. "I've worked with you for years now, and I can tell when you're leaving something out."

Henry met her glare levelly before turning his attention back to the TV. The picture of Levinson had been replaced with the photo of a middle-aged woman. If it weren't for her grimly set mouth and power suit, Arthur thought she rather resembled a stereotypical housewife. "Meet Christina DePaul, Cobol executive." He clicked the remote again, and the picture minimized to make room for a dozen more pictures. "Now, meet the board of directors of Cobol Engineering."

"… Oh hell no," spoke up the unnamed man again and suddenly all five of di Rossi's team were yelling at their leader. At one point, Arthur had to grab Ariadne and stop her from rising up from her seat.

"Sorry mate, but for those of us that aren't gifted with ESP?" spoke up Eames over the tumult of voices.

"A group inception, Eames. The simultaneous inception of not just one but a dozen individuals," ground out Ariadne. She let out a slightly hysterical laugh. "Henry, you really have lost it."

"I know, I know. You all think I'm nuts, but the way I think about it, this is the perfect opportunity to get Cobol out of our hair permanently," said the Italian.

"Let's pretend for a moment that I believe inception is even possible," started Demetri. "How would we even think to approach this?"

"The key here is our board of directors," said Henry. "These thirteen people _are _Cobol. Without them, Cobol ceases to exist, which means…"

"This project ceases to exist," ended McAllister.

"Exactly. So what I propose is yes, complete and utter insanity, but this may be our only shot."

"And your proposal?" inquired Graham.

"Turn them against each other. Dissent in the ranks will lead to dissent in the company. Simple," Henry said.

"Nothing is simple about inception," added Eames, and Arthur was struck with a sense of déjà vu.

"So I've heard," Henry replied and nodded at Ariadne. "Start with the basics, yeah?" He clicked the button again to reveal a circular graph divided into thirteen equal shares. "This is the breakdown of Cobol's shares. As you can see, each member of the board has equal pull… except for Ms. DePaul. In the event of any tie votes, it falls to her to break the tie. Recently, Ms. DePaul has expressed interest in leaving the company to spend more time with her family and husband with terminal cancer, and with her retirement, her share will be divided up among the remaining members. Unfortunately for them, there is no guarantee as to _how_ she'll divide up her share."

"I'm guessing that makes for fun board meetings," added Eames.

"Oh I couldn't even begin to guess at how fun," Henry said smiling. "But the fact of the matter is, each one of these men and women are now lobbying for the majority share of Cobol."

"So why would we need to intervene," asked Petra.

"Well, _they_ don't know who's getting the majority share," said Henry. Smiles of comprehension slowly spread throughout the room.

"Use greed and insecurity to dismantle a company," said McAllister slowly. "I like it."

Henry laughed, "I figured you would, Saul. Questions? Concerns? Run screaming for the hills?"

"Before I agree to anything," began Cobb, "how do we know this information about the wireless device is even accurate?"

"Because I used to work for them," interrupted Nikki softly. All eyes in the room swung around to stare at the woman in disbelief. "Until recently," she said, "I was employed by Cobol in R&D. I turned in my resignation once I realized what was going on."

"And they haven't come after you?" Konstantine asked in disbelief.

"Oh they certainly did," laughed Nikki humorlessly.

"What happened?"

"They left," interrupted her husband.

"Just like that?"

"Just like that," Henry answered tersely. Arthur knew that tone, and by the stiffening of Ariadne's posture, she knew exactly what had happened to the representatives from Cobol and wasn't particularly happy about it.

"To make a long story short, ladies and gentlemen, to pull this off, we need more than one team working on this. It needs to be a group effort, otherwise, well… we can kiss employment and most likely our asses goodbye," finished Henry. There was a long moment of silence.

"I'm in," called Nikki and sidled up next to her husband to slip and hand in his.

Ariadne sighed. "Me too. I still think you're crazy, but I'm in too." Arthur turned to look at her for a long moment before removing his hand from the back of couch to lace her fingers with his. She looked down at their linked hands and then up at his face, giving him a small smile. One by one, more of the extractionists spoke up in agreement. Cobol needed to be stopped. Sam was the last to speak up, but at the collective stare of his colleagues, he readily caved.

"Anyone else feel like they've just joined the Avengers?" quipped Titus.

"I was thinking more the Justice League," added Katya, and few male glances flicked over to her in appreciation.

"Right, well now that that's out of the way, it's time to get to the real work," Henry said. "As cliché and primary-schoolish as this sounds, I think it would be best served for us to temporarily divide up and figure out our plan of attack." Nods of agreement were seen throughout the parlor.

"But before we get started," interrupted Nikki, "may I suggest we break for dinner? We're going to need all the energy we can get."

At Nikki's suggestion, there was an overwhelmingly positive response, and the large group started to slowly migrate toward the main dining room. Arthur stood up first from the couch and tugged Ariadne up after him. "What have you gotten me into this time, Ari," he whispered in her ear.

"Oh, shut up." She grinned at him, and then led him out of the room to follow the mass of people.

* * *

><p>Dinner was a loud affair. Despite Nikki's suggestion of taking a break, most conversations consisted of shop talk. Cobb's team in particular found itself fielding the most questions concerning the Fischer inception. Arthur let Cobb answer most of the questions, preferring to keep an eye on Sam, whose wandering eyes kept searching out a certain architect. Ariadne, on the other hand, was engaged in a lively conversation between the other architects present, concerning the best way to design each level.<p>

After dinner, Arthur found himself pulled into the largest group of people consisting of extractors and other men who called themselves "point men." To Arthur's chagrin, Sam was one of the latter. Most of the meeting was spent taking inventory of the research that needed to happen, particularly concerning background on the board of directors. The sun had long since set, giving rise to a waning crescent moon, when Arthur exited the dining room. Arthur knew that this job would need more than his usual meticulous attention to detail, and he had already filled several pages of his Moleskine notebook with concerns to resolve.

The architects had disappeared some time ago, Kai only appearing briefly to run in and ask for a few minutes of Harvey's time. Harvey returned alone a half hour later, shaking his head and muttering about the neuroticism of architects. When Graham asked what was going on, Harvey only rolled his eyes and said, "Auditions," and the conversation resumed.

At the end of the meeting, Arthur found himself responsible for researching Director Randolph Tywin, the man likely to be the most distrusted of the board. The others would handle the rest of the research, but Tywin was critical for the job to work. Therefore when Cobb volunteered Arthur for the background research, no one opposed him—Arthur was just too good a point man, and his reputation preceded him.

Moleskine in hand, Arthur ascended the grand staircase toward his room. He paused on the landing briefly to take a quick look in the direction of Ariadne's room. "Lost, darling?" asked Eames, coming up behind him. Arthur rolled his eyes and then turned right to walk to his own room. The forger's long strides quickly caught up to the point man and casually strolled along with him down the hallway.

"Can I help you with something?" asked Arthur in irritation.

"Not going to see the architect this evening I see," noted Eames. The point man shot him a glare but didn't say anything.

"Tsk tsk, Arthur. I didn't see you for a one-night stand kind of guy."

Arthur stopped and turned on Eames, his right hand clenched into a fist. "Eames…"

Eames closed his eyes and smirked slightly while raising both hands up in mute surrender. "No offense meant, Arthur." Abruptly the forger's demeanor changed. His eyes snapped open but remained narrowed in icy threat. The forger's hands lowered, clenching into fists, and his body remained tense in a clearly offensive position. "But," he continued, "if I ever hear of you breaking that girl's heart again… Well Arthur, you and I are definitely going to have a problem."

Arthur drew back slightly, stunned. And just as suddenly as Eames tensed, he relaxed, grinned, and patted Arthur on the cheek just a little too hard to be considered gentle. "Good night, darling," the forger said and disappeared into his room. The point man stared for a moment at the forger's closed door and then moved to his own room.

When Arthur opened the door to his room, he knew something was off, especially when he noticed the small body curled up under the sheets of his bed. Ariadne's pale, white skin formed a stark contrast to the dark bedclothes. Arthur couldn't remember a time when a bed looked more inviting. Dropping his notebook on the desk, Arthur moved over to the bed, shrugging off his suit jacket on a nearby chair.

"Hey," Ariadne said. Arthur looked over to see her looking sleepily up at him.

"Hey," he returned and took a seat on the edge of the bed. "I thought you were sleeping."

She shook her head. "No, I think I'm still too wired from earlier."

The point man nodded in mute understanding. "I think Eames just threatened me."

"Oh?"

"Yeah… I think he was actually serious too."

Ariadne laughed, "Well, when you left Paris, he did threaten to go find and knock some sense into you." Arthur looked at her skeptically.

She pushed herself up to lean against the headboard. Arthur smirked when he noticed her oversized t-shirt with Dunlop Academy scrawled across the front. "You still have that?"

"It's comfortable," she whined and brought the collar up over her chin and nose. Her eyes were smiling, and she reached forward to undo his tie. "How'd it go," she asked.

"We've got everything squared away for the moment," said Arthur. "The real work is going to begin tomorrow. Di Rossi said he'd have workstations available tomorrow." Ariadne nodded, moving from the now undone tie to the top buttons of his shirt. "How'd it go with you?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Well enough I suppose. We decided that with the complexity of the situation, the biggest thing we need to focus on is cohesiveness."

"One architect," Arthur concluded.

"Yeah, the rest will serve as consultants and researchers for the designs."

"And did you pick an architect?" Ariadne stopped her progress on his shirt to glance up at him, an eyebrow raised.

"Should have figured," he said.

"Well I am the best."

Arthur laughed softly and leaned in to give her a kiss. "You know this idea and your 'boss' are completely crazy, right?"

"Henry's always been kind of nuts, but this one definitely takes the cake," she said.

"You're sure you're up for this?"

She glared at him and then grabbed him by his open shirt to lay him out on the bed. In a quick motion, the architect threw a leg over him to straddle his waist and pin him, although they both knew he could easily throw her off. Ariadne leaned down to bring her nose to nose with him.

"Now you listen to me, I've been doing this for nearly seven years now. I helped pull off an _inception_ on my first time out of the gate, and I've completed dozens of successful extractions since then. I'm the best damned architect in the business, and that's including Cobb. Now, do you want to ask me that again, please?"

Arthur stared up at her, and he could see the resolve in her eyes, not that he expected anything otherwise. "Well," he began, "I suppose you were trained by the best."

Ariadne's mouth dropped open in disbelief and slapped him lightly on the shoulder. "Best my—" but anything she was about to say was cut off as Arthur dragged her down into a kiss. Needless to say, conversation came to a halt for the rest of the evening.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Well, that's it for this week! Please review! **


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